


I - Repair

by whysosiriusumbridge



Series: Maraudering Matters [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Auror Training, Blaise Zabini is a Good Friend, Businessman Draco Malfoy, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Career Change, Complicated Relationships, Dealing With Memories, Developing Friendships, Drinking Games, Drunk Harry, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Feelings, Fluff, Gen, Goblins, Head Boy Draco Malfoy, Head Girl Hermione Granger, Hogwarts Common Room, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hogwarts Head Boys & Head Girls, Hogwarts Inter-House Friendships, Hogwarts Inter-House Relationships, Hogwarts Inter-House Rivalries, House Party, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), Multi, Not Epilogue Compliant, Olive Branch, Other, POV Multiple, Past Abuse, Past Character Death, Politics, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Canon, Post-Hogwarts, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Professional Quidditch, Psychological Trauma, Quidditch, Quidditch Player Ginny Weasley, Quidditch World Cup, Rebuilding Hogwarts, Recounting Experiences, Reformed Slytherins, Tags Are Hard, Theo is a Little Shit, Trauma, Truth or Dare, Underage Drinking, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, Wizarding Politics (Harry Potter), everyone has secrets, everyone is fucked up, forming new friendships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2020-07-31 04:02:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20108827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whysosiriusumbridge/pseuds/whysosiriusumbridge
Summary: 'Snape was innocent.' Harry said, the words falling out of his mouth without a second thought's consideration. Disregarding his personal opinions and confused feeling regarding the man, the statement was a fact and Draco had a right to know.The alcohol had made him much more receptive to having a straightforward conversation with Malfoy, the other boy's unfocused eyes giving him the confidence to approach the subject he had been determined to avoid for so long now.Expect multiple, slow-burn and well reasoned relationships, everyone doesn't become friends suddenly, it takes time to deconstruct seven years of stigma and hatred, but it happens - thanks to a stubborn Gryffindor, a matter-of-fact Ravenclaw, two open-minded Weasleys and a flirt of a Slytherin.Post-War Fic, deals with the Post-War trauma, political repercussions, reconciliations, funerals, newly forming friendships, reforming slytherins. Might extend into an eighth-year fic, might (definitely will) over-extend into a Post-Hogwarts, career and Auror Training Fic.





	1. Bouncing Back

_ **Chapter 1** _

_2nd May, 1998_

Gravel and dust, pieces of broken furniture and parts of the stone walls and ceiling were crunching under his feet as he walked towards his unknown destination. Ron and Hermione were doing it again; he could practically hear them exchange those glances behind his back.

He stopped abruptly, Hermione bumping into him and almost slipping on a stray piece of wood; Ron caught her by the arm and held her in place. An uncomfortable look passed between them and Ron hastily removed his hand. Harry pretended he hadn’t noticed the small exchange and strained his ears for the voice which had originally made him stop.

A very quiet and distant moan sounded from somewhere ahead of them. The corridor they were standing in was clear but the noise seemed to have come from a classroom up ahead.

They exchanged a glance and moved towards the room quietly, wands held tightly and at the ready. The classroom was in a state of utter destruction – a part of the wall was blown up and most of the ceiling was in pieces on what remained of the floor.

It had to be the west side of the castle, for no sunlight streamed through the large gap, even though the Black Lake was visible from an angle. Another moan erupted from somewhere under the rubble, louder this time; the person seemed to have sensed their presence. Harry looked at the two of them in indecision – what if the person underneath turned out to be a death eater? He couldn’t think of anything he would do, or not do, if it was one of them. Hermione took a deep breath and decided it for them, by walking forward at the edge of the rubble and starting to lift the larger pieces away.

The bright, fierce light feeling of victory was slowly fading away, giving in to something much darker than Harry could have imagined feeling. Every time he looked at Ron and Hermione though, the light hope and happiness flickered in his chest again.

It was easier to follow Hermione and not think, simply work. Underneath the largest broken piece of wood, a foot came into view. Within the next few minutes, they had the now unconscious form of Theodore Nott unearthed. Harry recognized the reedy boy from the few times he had seen him at the Slytherin table, but his mind still felt blank. He felt no emotion for the boy. He didn’t care it was a Slytherin. To him, it was someone who’d been hurt because of the War. Another side-effect of the Battle.

Ron looked uncertainly towards him but Harry had already made up his mind. He bent down to check Nott’s pulse once, which was very weak, and then with Hermione’s help, hoisted him in the air.

* * *

Nott was deposited in the Hospital Wing, which was set up in the room off the entrance hall for the time being. Ron had stoically followed them, and Harry could sense that he did not approve. Harry was fussed over again by everyone, some congratulated him, clapped him on the back, while some kept their distance. Madam Pomfrey suddenly swooped in on the three of them as they were standing by Nott’s bed, Ron glaring at his still form.

The matron inspected Nott’s injuries for a few minutes, while the three of them watched her from a corner. Ron and Hermione tried their level best to just somehow hide him from view so people would stop coming over to talk to him, but it did not appear to be working much. Thankfully, the nurse had looked over Nott properly and had appointed Hannah Abott in charge of the boy within the next few minutes.

She immediately stalked to them and caught hold of Ron and Hermione and ushered the three of them upstairs to her office. The part of the Wing opposite to the office of the matron had been demolished too, but they didn’t linger there much. “Now, tell me all about these injuries quickly, so that I can assign you potions and then get back to the hall. Come on.” She bid them, hurriedly opening cupboards and taking out numerous bottles and vials. Harry felt Hermione and Ron look at him, unmoving, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at them directly. Instead, he stared at the Matron’s cluttered desktop.

The sight provoked a sharp memory of Snape’s bleeding and still body on the floor of the Shrieking Shack. Harry gave a slight shudder; then pretended to ignore Ron and Hermione’s questioning stares, instead focusing on slowly peeling off his clothes. He had only told them in short about Snape’s memories and he did not think he could recount the details for anyone else so soon, even though he knew he would have to tell McGonagall sooner rather than later. But more importantly, he had to make a trip to the shrieking shack and he had to do it alone.

Ron and Hermione had followed his lead and shed almost all their clothing and exposed their burns, cuts and bruises. Madam Pomfrey stopped her movements suddenly, and gave a horrified gasp on seeing them. “What did you do? Walk through a _fire_?” she whispered in shock, and he distinctly felt Hermione look towards him. He remained silent. They followed his lead again.

After a few seconds of staring, Pomfrey snapped out of it, and started muttering furiously, and Harry spotted her wiping a few tears while getting out more vials.

She poked and prodded them for about an hour, making a list of potions and liquids they needed, then found all she could provide them. Hermione quietly took initiative for helping her list the supplies she had, and promised that she would look for the rest and meet her later.

Madam Pomfrey left after assigning them five bottles each to drink now and giving some more instructions to Hermione. Harry gulped all five quickly, without taking many breaths in between, and felt Ron and Hermione exchange a panicked glance. Great, now he could even _sense_ their expressions. But he didn’t care; he liked the way the potions burned down his throat, almost like firewhiskey, but for the bitter taste. It made him feel _something_, instead of empty and hollow.

“So, Grimmauld Place?” Ron said tentatively, and Harry shook his head silently, and replied without looking up. “I need to bury Snape.”

He knew they were doing it again but it did not bother him as much as it should have. He got up and they followed him again – he had a sudden urge to laugh. After seven years of following him around, it felt like Ron and Hermione were at a loss for what to do now that they didn’t need to do it anymore.

“Do you need help?” Hermione said as they descended the great staircase towards the entrance hall, and Harry smiled despite himself. “No. You’ve both been incredible, but I think I can take it from here.”

He looked back at the two with a smile as they reached the ground amongst a bustle of activity. Hermione made a brave attempt at a smile but it didn’t work, so she decided to barrel into him with a tight hug. He returned it, and shared an eyeroll with Ron behind her back before Hermione decided to untangle herself.

“We’re going to talk to McGonagall about the whole thing – I think we need to tell one person about the everything, don’t you?” She said, looking at Ron as he joined them, thumping Harry on the back.

“Yeah, and we’ll need you with us for it, because there’s some stuff we still don’t fully understand.”

“Just find us on the map – we’ll be in Hogwarts most probably –“

“Oh, but this could take time, y’know –“

“Don’t worry, just find McGonagall when you’re ready and she’ll find us.”

“Yeah and don’t forget we need to get our story straight for Mum and Dad and Bill and Ginny and the whole lot.” Ron said, looking disgruntled towards the Great Hall. Harry felt a stab of apprehension – he had forgotten he would have to explain all the crazy shit they had done to the rest of the adults too, who he was sure would not be as understanding or forgiving as McGonagall. 

“Yeah, I thought we’d escape it,” Ron explained when he noticed Harry’s expression, “But Bill was already up my arse about it before you came to get me and Hermione earlier.”

“And Ginny was asking me questions too.” Hermione nodded along, and Harry sighed resignedly. “Fine, we’ll figure it out later. Don’t say anything yet, we’ll tell them everything together and somewhere safe like The Burrow – not here.”

Ron and Hermione nodded their assent and Harry slowly and carefully pushed through the crowd to the oak front doors, finally stepping into the chilly air of the morning.

* * *

Professor McGonagall stared at them for two long minutes with an incredulous expression on her face, looking like she hoped someone would laugh and say they were kidding.

It was afternoon and they had just relayed the entirety of the events starting properly from Voldemort’s birth and ending with the events of that morning. Harry felt like he had just relived his whole life within the span of the last hour they had spent talking to McGonagall.

He had found Ron and Hermione easily enough after returning from the Shrieking Shack since he had been unable to decide what to do with Snape’s body. He knew that the only place the man should be laid to rest was next to his mother, Lily, but how did you do that? It had felt ironic at that time, when he stared into the lifeless eyes of his Potions Master, that despite facing the death of so many loved ones at such a young age, Severus Snape was the first man whose funeral he had to directly arrange.

It was the responsibility of ‘next of kin’ and he had never been that for anyone except now, perhaps, for the dark haired man. He had been unable to do much else except sit by the battered body and think about what had unfolded and the unfairness of it all. He had proceeded to let out his anger, frustration, tears and howls in all the violent ways he could for a good two or three hours, occasionally alternating with sitting silently and stewing, before finally walking back to the castle with Snape’s body hovering behind him and depositing it in line with the rest of the dead in the Great Hall.

McGonagall had been shocked to say the least, on learning about the precarious position Snape had spent his entire life in. “And to think I hated him all that time. If I was doing that, I’d be that bloody pissed off at every single thing too!”

It had bothered Harry some to hear McGonagall, because as much as a guilty pit the size of Hogwarts blew up in his stomach at the thought of what Snape had done for him, he also had trouble getting the images of Snape bullying him, Neville and Hermione out of his head.

Finally though, Professor McGongall took off her glasses and heaved a deep sigh, before walking around her office twice and standing behind her desk again, “I take that we four are the only people with the complete knowledge of what has happened?”

“Yes, Professor.” They replied in unison, and McGonagall nodded once and fell back into her chair, picking up her spectacles and cleaning them.

“So what do you propose shall be told to the general population? Surely, this story cannot be allowed to be presented in the open.” She said, placing the glasses on her nose and looking down at the three of them.

“Uh, yes Professor. We were hoping that you would help us out with that. What do you think we should do?” Harry said, and McGonagall’s eyebrows rose dangerously before she considered him for a moment and slowly nodded, speaking quietly to herself, “Yes, I suppose, now that Albus-“

She stopped and cleared her throat, resetting her glasses again, “Well, I think that we shall have to come up with an alternate half-truthful version of the story, for no doubt, the _Daily Prophet_ shall have to print _something_.”

“I have thought of something, Professor, but we’ll need to discuss it first.” Hermione said, and both Harry and Ron turned to her, confused.

“Yes yes, I thought of something, but I thought I’d tell you together.” She shrugged, folding her arms. Harry saw Ron open his mouth to say something, when there was a knock at the door.

Kingsley entered, looking as worn as ever but stopped suddenly on noticing them. “Oh, Harry. I’ll just wait outside, Minerva.”

“No, that’s quite alright, Kingsley, I will be with you in just a minute. Why don’t you lead everyone to the Defense Classroom- it is the largest.” McGonagall said, and Kingsley left silently with a nod.

“We have a lot of work to do and only a few people trustworthy enough to do it – so we’re having an emergency meeting and Kingsley will be able to immediately sort out some important things like the funerals.” McGongall looked at Harry as she said it but he diligently avoided her eyes, until she started speaking again.

“As for _The Prophet_, I think it is best to give the people some time to deal with their losses and recover a little bit before _The Prophet_ prints your version of the careful truth. A week should be enough to come up with that and refine it, I think – I shall talk to Mr. Jordan about contacting Barnabas Cuffe about this and they can find an interviewer you shall feel comfortable talking to.”

“Yes, that sounds perfect, Professor.” Hermione replied enthusiastically and Harry and Ron nodded along. “Now, can we go back to Grimmauld?” Ron turned to him, and Harry rolled his eyes before McGonagall replied for him.

“Ah, I think that is a good idea. Although, I would suggest you take someone with you in case somebody is waiting to apprehend you – Mr. Longbottom and Miss Lovegood, would be happy to help, I’d think.”

She was almost at the door before she turned back to the three of them, “And I would suggest staying and laying low there for a while – particularly you, Harry.”

* * *

The place was still being guarded by two cloaked Death Eaters, but they were quickly taken down. Neville and Luna volunteered to deposit the unconscious men at Hogwarts itself.

They had quietly entered the place, him hoping the neighbors hadn’t seen the little show, to find it the same as it had been when they had left. A few things in the drawing room had been upturned and the kitchen was also messed through, but nothing was missing or much out of place.

“One hour to wash up. Then food.” Hermione had said quietly, and then retired to her and Ginny’s room.

That had been two hours ago.

He had been in the bathroom, hands against tiles, staring at the draining water. At first it was murky red, then it had faded it to faint brown and now it was clear. He was feeling a little better after washing himself properly, feeling like he had washed away years of sweat, grime and memories in the process. He felt cleaner, and his head was a little clearer, even though his neck was now aching because of standing in the same position for the last half hour.

He would have to admit to himself that bathrooms had often held life-changing experiences for him. He had entered today feeling empty - then he had mechanically washed himself after an hour of crying his eyes dry in the shower. While washing himself, his mind had slowly cleared and he was letting the Hermione section of his brain take over. He had compartmentalized- there were things he had to do, things he had not dared to think about all his life – for whenever he had thought about his future, he had seen nothing but a blank dark stretch ending with Voldemort. And now that he was gone, it was time to step into actual reality - time to leave this chapter of his life behind.

He felt guilty when he thought about it. It was guilt that threatened to rip him apart from the inside out if he let it, but he couldn’t let that happen. A faint burning hope ignited in his chest again as he made his decision – they needed him now, more than anything. He would throw himself in the clean-up effort, personally visit people, donate, work, talk, give speeches,_ do things_ and keep himself busy.

No matter what McGongall said - she didn’t understand. He couldn’t have a breakdown, or shut down. No. He would work. And do something worthwhile with his life that so many people had died to protect. That he himself had died for.

“Harry?”

There was a knock on the door as Hermione’s voice trembled slightly as she called him, knocking again when he didn’t answer, hurriedly drying himself and pulling on clothes. He opened the door after a few silent seconds, to find Hermione’s hand raised in the air again.

“Oh, sorry. Harry, we need to talk.” She said, and her voice had the urgency he hadn’t expected – his thoughts immediately turned to horrible things like something happening to Ron, or Ginny, or Voldemort being back.

“Harry, there are some things we need to sort out between ourselves without telling the others.” She began, and the panic subsided in Harry’s chest – this he could handle, “I think you need to keep the Hocruxes safe, so that no one accidentally finds them; there are going to be speculations and rumors about what happened today and the Prophet’s going to jabber on with the nastiest versions for at least a week, not to mention the rest of the Wizarding World.” She continued as she took a seat on Ron’s bed, pulling out the beaded bag from her sock.

“Well, they’re destroyed, aren’t they? They can’t do any harm now.” He said, but Hermione shook her head, closing her eyes.

“No no, I mean yes, they’re destroyed but they were filled with dark magic so they’re going to leave traces. If someone discovers them, well…”

Harry didn’t need Hermione to explain to him what would happen. Any normal witch or wizard might not understand but they could still be dangerous in the hands of the wrong person.

“The ring is in the Forest, and it needs to remain there. I have the locket right here-“ Harry fumbled behind him for Hagrid’s moleskin pouch, pulling out the ornate locket, and feeling it’s weight in his hand. Even though no metal heart beat beneath it, he still felt an inexplicable urge to hurl the thing away from him, but dropped it back inside.

“The cup is with Ron, and the diadem?” Hermione asked, eyeing the chain in his hand, frowning.

“I don’t know… can’t remember, I think it’s still on the seventh floor in the rubble somewhere. Death Eaters had just broken in when it shattered in my hands – I don’t remember picking it up.” He said, wracking his brains to remember the moment right before Fred had – when Fred had…

“Okay, and the diary?” Hermione interrupted, voice trembling slightly, he suspected she too must have remembered.

“I gave it to Lucius Malfoy right after we got back from the Chamber. He’d come to visit Dumbledore with Dobby.” He said, throat constricting at the mention of the excited house-elf, and his eyes burning slightly.

“Where’s Kreacher?” he asked Hermione, who hadn’t spoken but seemed to be taking deep breaths to calm herself. She looked like she was about to cry too.

“He’s…” She began, then cleared her throat, blinking rapidly, “He’s prepared some food – Ron, Neville and Luna just finished eating.”

“And you?” Harry asked, noticing she’d omitted herself, and as he watched, she began to shake slightly.

“I’ve had to take care of something else.” She said quietly, voice trembling, looking at him with a scared look. Harry found himself panicking again – something else had happened, hadn’t it? Someone else was…

He stared at Hermione in silence as her breathing quickened again and her eyes filled with tears. Neither spoke a word for a minute, but Harry was waiting for the news – he didn’t think he could handle anyone else –

“It’s the dagger. Her dagger. I don’t know what to do with it.” Hermione blurted out, looking like she’d done so with great difficulty, breaking into sobs as soon as she finished. Harry blinked at her, surprised, but moved to her side quickly as she collapsed into him, mumbling noisily.

“She killed Dobby with it – I – I don’t want to keep it but I can’t get r-rid of it either.” She sobbed hysterically into his shoulder for a minute, while Harry tried to rub her back soothingly. He was still bewildered about what was happening, but he couldn’t make sense of what Hermione was saying right then.

“What are you saying, Hermione? You can’t get rid of it, why?” He asked, and she sat up again, wiping at her eyes frantically, trying to stifle her sobs.

“I hate it, it’s a vile object. But… I don’t know how to explain it, Harry. I feel safe when it’s with me. When I know where it is all the time.” She said in scared whisper, and understanding struck – Hermione didn’t want to get rid of it, but it’s presence scared her.

“So that’s why you can’t rid of it?” he asked, and she nodded silently, her sobs finally subsiding.

“I hate it though.” She said again angrily, pulling the blade out from her beaded bag and placing it between them on the bed. They stared at for a minute in silence and Harry noted with a stab of revulsion that Dobby’s blood was still on it.

“What do I do, Harry? What should I do?” She said, voice desperate, and Harry shook himself out of his thoughts. It was the first time, if he remembered correctly, that Hermione had asked him for help; she had been the answer to most of their questions from as long as he could remember. It disconcerted him to see her so out of sorts, especially asking him for help.

“What if I keep it?” He said after a while, and Hermione looked at him surprised. He saw her consider the idea and nod slowly, “That’s a good idea. I’ll know it’s in safe hands and can’t cause anymore trouble. And I won’t have to keep it with me either.” She thought out loud, nodding slowly.

“Yes, yes Harry. That sounds good.” She said finally and Harry smiled at her reassuringly, patting her hand. She seemed much more collected as she wrapped the silver blade in a cloth and handed it to him.

“So what about the hocruxes? We don’t know where the Malfoys are, do we?” She said, wringing her hands thoughtfully, and Harry sighed deeply, feeling the stabs of hunger in his belly sharpen.

“Listen Hermione, is this so important to do right now-?” He began, but Hermione cut him off, looking panicked.

“Of course Harry! We have to make sure that we collect them, I can’t sit idle after all this – after everything that’s happened. I can’t – I need a project or I won’t –” She began, before her voice constricted, and she looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. He understood the problem – she needed to keep herself occupied, typical Hermione.

“I don’t see how I have to participate too. How about this – I take care of the dagger and you collect the Hocruxes. I won’t feel comfortable having them near me for the same reasons you feel that with the dagger. So you can hide them.” He said, and Hermione brightened.

“Oh, that’s a really good idea Harry! It’s fair, and – oh, you really need to eat, don’t you? I have to warn you though, Madam Pomfrey is going to be here soon.”

“What? Why?” He said, turning around to face her – he had just been about to go down to the kitchen. Hermione had a guilty expression on her face as she answered him – “I sort of let slip that you’d actually died when I went to get some potions. So she said that you’re to eat and she’ll visit you here to give a thorough check-up.”

“Why would you that, Hermione? Why, why, why?” He whined childishly, feeling annoyed at his brilliant bushy haired friend. All he needed was a good rest – he would be right as rain in no time.

“Would you rather be in St. Mungo’s? They’ll cut you open to get an answer to how you survived the killing curse – how many times is it now?” She said, walking towards him to the door, giving him an exasperated look.

“Thrice now? I think…” He said glumly, conceding her point as they walked down the stairs together, glaring at her half-singed hair in front of him. Sometimes, he hated when she was right.

"Master has finally returned. Master is alive… Kreacher hoped… of course, his old masters told Kreacher his master was dead, but Kreacher knew… he went to Hogwarts… Kreacher is sorry about Dobby… and Kreacher thinks master should have some onion soup and bread, master looks very thin."

Kreacher’s bullfrog voice greeted Harry as he stepped into the glinting kitchen. Harry smiled widely when Kreacher looked up at him and the elf immediately turned to Hermione with a slightly filthy look, "And Master's friends… should have some too… Of course, Kreacher merely suggests… Kreacher will follow orders…"

"Nice house, Harry." Neville remarked with a grin as Kreacher moved away mumbling lowly. Hermione and Harry merely rolled their eyes before taking a seat at the kitchen table. Half of Neville's face was covered in thick yellow paste – Harry had a nasty suspicion some poisonous plants were involved. On his other side, Luna merely looked like she had run through some rough bushes; her hair was tainted with what Harry was sure was blood and dirt, but her face held no sign of injury.

As he and Hermione settled onto the table and dug into the soup Kreacher had produced for them, Harry tried to avoid looking at Ron directly, because he wasn’t sure what he would find there, and if he could deal with it right then. Thankfully, Neville had somehow obtained the latest edition of _The Prophet_ and just like McGongall had predicted, it was full of Harry Potter.

“They’ve raved on about you and your adventures for like six pages. There’s photographs and everything – it’s almost like they’re telling your whole life story backwards.”

“Really? I didn’t think they’d go that all out.” Hermione said, pulling the folded paper towards herself and disappearing behind it just as Kreacher brought out some dessert.

“Oh they have gone all out. We’re all in there – you, me, Neville, Luna, Sirius, Remus, Hagrid, Dumbledore, Snape. They’ve gathered all the scandals they’ve ever printed and just rewritten them in your favor – Dumbledore’s death and your allegations about Snape and how they were proven right, Sirius’ innocence and how you were right about it all that time, Cedric’s death and the Triwizard fiasco, Lupin’s resignation and this time, they somehow managed to mention he was the best Defense teacher we had, Hagrid’s innocence, etc.”

“Seriously? And what source are they citing this time?”

“Oh just a ‘reliable source’. Does it even matter now – anybody present at the castle could’ve given the information about today, there were so many people. And I see they’ve conveniently glossed all over the Umbridge crap they pulled in fifth year.” Hermione said angrily, folding the paper noisily and throwing it aside. “It’s a load of codswallop – just like I expected.”

“So when are you guys giving an official interview, Harry? It’s got to be better to tell them something than letting _The Prophet_ go on and print half-true stories about it all, right?”

Harry exchanged a look with Ron on Neville’s question. He wasn’t sure he could tell everything as it had happened to Neville and Luna – their expectations of the whole truth from him were not misplaced, but could they risk it?

“McGongall told us not to tell the full version to anyone – especially the Prophet. I don’t think the public can handle that kind of truth, to be honest, so we’re going to feed some other story to them.” Hermione said nonchalantly, and Neville turned to frown at Harry. Luna, who had not seemed to be bothered by anything until now, set down her spoon to turn to him with wide eyes too.

Harry looked at Ron, whose ears seemed to have turned pink. Hermione, who had been obliviously busy with her soup, looked up and finally noticed. “What?”

“Look, I’m not saying we tell _The Prophet_ everything, but we have to tell Mum and Dad what we did for a year while we were in hiding. They’re not going to stop hounding us about it until we tell them, y’know?” Ron said, trying to remain confident as they all saw Hermione’s blatant disapproval of the idea in her face. Harry nodded his support and jumped in before Hermione could get a word out.

“And it’s not like we tell everyone or we tell everything. Just the important parts, yknow to keep them satisfied.”

“It’s dangerous, Harry! It’s too dangerous! I cannot believe _both_ you and Ron think this could be –”

“Look, Hermione,” Neville interrupted and both Harry and Ron turned to him, surprised, but not more so than Hermione, “We’re also not saying we want to know the whole truth. I trust your and Harry’s opinion – we all remember what happened in fifth year. So if you decide that something’s too dangerous for the world to know, I don’t want to know it.”

He aimed the last part at Harry and he felt a sudden rush of… respect for Neville. It was something that Remus would have said in a situation like this. He stared, a bit shocked, as Neville continued eating his treacle tart, before turning to Hermione, “It’s only going to be people we trust, Hermione. I can give you a list right now if you want and you’ll agree that these are people we would trust with our lives. So why not the truth? Or at least a part of it?”

“Just sleep on it, ’Mione. Mum’s invited you all for dinner so we need to be there and ready to talk about it all – so get your rest. Both of you.” Ron said, getting up from the table and stretching languidly, just as the doorbell rang and Mrs. Black’s screams filled the halls.

“Again, how did you end up with this house, Harry?”

* * *

"Potter, I don't give a _rotting rat's arse_ if you saved the wizarding world, you just _died_ twelve hours ago. You're my patient and you're going to stay in that bed _until I say so_."

A bit of a shocked silence followed her words as the nice, calm, polite Hogwarts Matron Madam Pomfrey stood in the doorway of his bedroom, red in the face, glaring at Harry Potter.

Harry was sitting in his bed disgruntled, looking ready to revolt again, when he saw Hermione glare at him too. That made him clench his jaw and huff quietly at the ceiling.

Neville was standing behind the matron, ready to escort her out, looking like he was fighting a smile, while Ron smirked at Harry's distress by his side. He had a sudden urge to hurl something at the ginger, but resisted, only because he knew Hermione would hex him before whatever he threw at Ron actually hit him.

Hermione shuffled around with his potions as Ron dragged two armchairs and settled them by his bed. Luna was closely inspecting the posters of scantily clad models on the wall of Sirius’ old room when Neville returned.

"Harry, you really need to go to sleep." Hermione said, sitting beside his legs, and he groaned petulantly. He did _not_ want to sleep just yet.

"Now." Hermione continued before he could say anything, and surprisingly, Ron intervened. "Let the man breathe Hermione. We've just defeated bloody Voldemort, I think we all deserve a bit of relaxation – not being poked and prodded and ordered around."

Hermione flushed at his words and crossed her arms, but Harry could see this escalating into something worse. So he quickly spoke as Hermione opened her mouth to counter angrily – "That's right – I mean you're right too, of course, and I know I have to sleep because of this bloody medication and I will but I just wanted to know what you lot are going to do in the meantime."

"Well, I'm going to go home and visit Gran and see if she's alright. Then probably go to McGonagall and see how I can help." Neville said squishing into an armchair beside Luna and Ron leaned in as well.

"I'm going to take everyone home and- and sort out some other things." Ron said, and Harry knew he meant the funeral.

"I'll also join you, Neville. I need to talk to Mr. Shacklebolt about getting Daddy back from Azkaban and then we need to rebuild our home." Luna said in a dreamy voice, completely at ease with the idea of her father being locked up in the horrible place.

"Right. Hermione?" Harry prompted, after everyone had stared at Luna for about half a minute, who as usual seemed oblivious to it.

"Well, I'm- I'm free, I guess." Hermione said uncertainly, then threw a fleeting look at Harry and added, "Though I think I'll go to McGonagall as well."

"Really Hermione?" He looked at her bemusedly, "Do you seriously need me to say it?"

She blushed a delicate shade of pink, "I- I, well, I don't want to impose-"

"Rubbish. You're staying here." He said with a tone of finality in his voice he had often heard Mrs. Weasley use. "Luna, you and Mr. Lovegood are welcome to stay here while the house is getting ready." He continued, and was awarded with a brilliant smile that seemed to brighten the blonde’s hair.

"Ron, Neville, do I even have to say?" He turned to the two boys. They shared a face-splitting grin then, and he felt warmth spread through him. Yes, there had been casualties. Yes, they had lost people, loved ones. But they had survived. It was finally over – the darkness was gone and he suddenly felt lightheaded with belated relief. He could feel himself breathing better again.

They would build their world back together. He would. With his friends. His family.

* * *

Harry woke up three hours later, and entered the kitchen yawning, only slightly aware of his surroundings as the half-formed images from his dreams flashed before his eyes. He did not feel rested at all, it felt like he had collapsed on the bed, passed out to a blur of flashing colors as his brain tried to make sense of the events of the past few hours and then woken up abruptly as if to an alarm.

Hermione was already there, making tea and looking more miserable than he had seen her in the afternoon; he could spot dark circles beneath her eyes. He felt guilty at once – sleep, especially sleeping separately, had been a bad idea. He didn't want to think what she might have gone through in her dreams, when she spoke hoarsely, "Sorry, did I wake you?"

His stomach turned with guilt again and he felt a lump form in his throat on seeing her apologetic expression. "Let me do that." He replied, quietly taking the pan from her hand.

He slowly made some tea – while Hermione sat in the chair closest to the fire. He had expected her to pull out a book, or talk, but she had only stared at the fire in deep thought. He was only half-curious about what was going on in her mind; he wasn't sure they could talk about things so soon.

Ron joined them just as he finished drinking, silently entering without any greeting. Hermione straightened up and left her morose staring, focusing instead on him. There was still some time before they had to be at the Burrow for the funeral and dinner and Harry knew why Ron had chosen to visit them first – they had to decide how much to tell everyone.

"Hermione, have you thought about telling them?" Ron asked bluntly, sitting across from him and fixing Hermione with a dead stare. He looked worse for wear and even though Harry and Hermione had not been able to rest, they had at least managed a few hours of sleep – something Ron had obviously not had the time for. The only time Harry had seen him in a worse state was the few days he had been wearing the hocrux at the start of their journey with an arm injury. He had bags under his eyes and his hair looked as disheveled as ever; the only difference he could make out was that he was cleaner now.

"Yeah. You both are right, I suppose. We need to share things with people we trust in order to grieve properly and move past them.”

Harry and Ron exchanged a relieved glance, and Hermione turned to look at them, “I have a condition though – everyone present at the time of this recollection has to make an Unbreakable Vow to not reveal anything we tell them to anyone else. They want the story? They’ll get it, but we _cannot_ be naive about this – we can’t risk anyone spilling the secrets of the darkest wizard of our time and the reason he was called that. Does that seem fair?”

They both nodded and she continued, this time looking at Ron with a little bit of apprehension, “I’m going to say a list of names and I think anyone other than these people cannot know about the details of things. I don’t mean to offend you, Ron but I can’t agree with all of your family knowing. Only Ginny, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Fleur and George. Other than them, Neville and Luna. And that’s it.”

Ron stared at her for a few seconds, his ears turning slightly red, a dangerous sign, before he finally glanced at Harry. He, however, could not think of any particular reasons to counter Hermione so he blinked uselessly from one to the other.

“Well, am I allowed to ask the reason for the exclusion of the rest?" Ron said in a very calm voice, but it had the hint of suppressed skepticism. Hermione did not look surprised at all, and instead replied very matter-of-factly, “Because Charlie is too close to Hagrid and Percy – I just don’t trust.”

Ron stared at Hermione for a resolute moment, and Harry shifted his eyes to the fireplace as soon as Ron turned towards him. A muscle twitched in his jaw as he mastered the urge to argue with Hermione about excluding Hagrid but the smallest, most logical part of him knew that it wasn’t the best idea and that Hermione wouldn’t budge anyway. He tried his best to avoid Ron’s eyes as he digested the information and finally let out a hollow, “Alright then. Let’s get going.”

* * *


	2. Total Recall

** _Chapter 2_ **

_2nd May, 1998_

Having dinner at the Burrow that night was one of the most surreal affairs of Harry’s life – and that was saying something cuz he’d been dead. Everything felt wrong without Fred by George’s side, who was sticking out like a sore thumb at the table, staring at the food on his table and picking at it. Harry wanted to avert his eyes every time he looked at the one-eared George; it felt like he was intruding on a personal moment of grief that he should not have been witnessing. Mrs. Weasley had broken down twice while preparing dinner, and once during, after realizing that she had set an extra plate and chair for Fred. George had hurriedly picked up the extras and retreated into the house, not emerging till they were halfway through.

Nobody had too large an appetite or an urge to talk much that night, and they had quickly progressed through a short dessert when Bill leaned towards Ron and whispered to him, just loud enough for Harry to hear since he was right next to them, “When are you going to tell Mum and Dad about the whole thing? They’re getting anxious.”

Ron exchanged a look with Harry and Hermione, who had looked up from her pudding at overhearing Bill. He cleared his throat uncomfortably before replying, “We’ll discuss it once Percy and Charlie go to bed.”

Bill frowned heavily at Harry and Hermione, but gave a curt nod at their stony expressions before turning to talk to Mr. Weasley in a low voice. In a few minutes, Percy had retired to his bedroom early, as usual and Charlie, who had been running around all day helping McGonagall at Hogwarts, was ordered to go to bed at once by Mr. Weasley.

As soon as Charlie left the garden, the atmosphere tensed susceptibly, and every eye suddenly seemed to be staring at Harry. He felt himself grow hot, a feeling he realized was being shared by Ron and Hermione as he noticed their respective pink ears and cheeks. Gulping, he forced himself to make eye contact with Mr. Weasley, even as he felt his stomach was about to fall out of his body.

As soon as he opened his mouth, however, Hermione began speaking in a brittle, apologetic voice, “Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley, I’m sorry about the discretion but we want to tell you guys everything. And to be able to do that, we need all of yours ultimate assurance that not a single word you hear here tonight will be breathed to anyone once we are finished.”

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley did not hesitate long to nod, replying assuredly, “We promise, dear.”

“This ultimate assurance is the Unbreakable Vow. We need to get it out of the way before we begin. Is that alright?” Hermione said, her voice more high pitched than usual and it was Ginny who replied first this time, “Yeah, I don’t mind. I don’t plan on gossiping about you three in my free time.”

Hermione gave a relieved little smile as everyone else chimed in, except George who only nodded. She turned to Ron immediately, “You need to go fetch Neville and Luna – they’ve already made the vow earlier today when you both were busy, but we’re still the secret keepers so we need to invite them in.”

Ron nodded haltingly and immediately stepped over the back garden fence and beyond the perimeter of the protective spells over the Burrow, rotating on the spot and disappearing with a swish.

In the meantime, Hermione had everyone make an Unbreakable Vow to Harry, repeating the same questions over and over until everyone was sufficiently bound by deep magic to not reveal anything they learned that night, to anyone, under any circumstances. He tried to look for loopholes in her questions for fun, but gave up halfway, realizing that it was a foolish job from the start – the woman was the reason he was still alive.

By the time Neville and Luna had arrived and been shortly introduced to everyone, the sun had set properly and night had fallen over the garden. Ron had helpfully provided three small balls of light that hung slightly above everyone, the chickens had been fed and shut in and silencing charms had been cast around the table so that no noise escaped the slightly silvery dome in case things got loud. The small party of eleven were seated comfortably, the back of their chairs turned towards the Burrow’s walls - Harry, Ron and Hermione facing the rest.

“Um, alright - how do we start?” He wondered aloud, suddenly tense and self conscious about relaying his whole life story to people who essentially meant the most to him.

“The beginning would be nice.” Luna chimed, smiling slightly at him, as if for encouragement. Everyone else nodded and Harry found himself copying the gesture, but before he could continue, Bill said, “Or you could start by telling us if you really broke into Gringotts and why. I have a nasty suspicion about the how, but I would like it to be confirmed.”

Harry and the other two had the gall to look a little ashamed as he recalled his conversation with Bill on the night of Teddy’s birth, but the ginger just smirked at him, “Don’t worry – I’m not mad, I’m sure the goblins are going to be outraged enough about this. I’m just peeved that you planned it all right under my nose and I didn’t have the slightest hint! Why didn’t you – ?”

“Hold up – planned it all under your nose?” Ginny interrupted suddenly, looking more confused than indignated; and Harry, Hermione, Bill and Fleur collectively, and quite unhelpfully, turned to Ron as one, which led all heads to turn in his direction questioningly.

“Oh right – I forgot about that part.” Ron mumbled to himself, suddenly growing smaller in his chair, as if trying to shrink from his family’s gazes.

“Uh, Ron – sort of, um… abandoned Harry for a while sometime near Christmas –”

“I’m sorry, he did _WHAT_ \- ?”

“_RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY_ -”

“_No_, he – It didn’t happen like _that_ – Bill, _come on!_”

“_Yeah_, I mean we had a fight and _we both_ said some things we regret -”

“You actually _LEFT _\- ?”

“- _HOW DARE YOU ABANDON YOUR BEST FRIEND _-”

“I’m sorry but _he did_, Hermione – you can’t sugarcoat it, Harry! -”

“But it was _both_ our fault at the time! _How_ can you - ?”

“- _IN THE MIDDLE OF A WAR FOR YOUR LIVES _-”

*

It took a while to get Mrs. Weasley to stop shouting long enough to explain that Ron had not just abandoned them out of the blue; and that it was much more complicated than that, and that even Bill, who had still not properly forgiven Ron for it, did not understand the situation completely and what exactly had happened.

Finally, it was Fleur’s comment that quieted Bill down, “’e is only eighteen, Molly. Zey are just keedz, Bill. Zey ‘ad to grow up cruelly fazt but just because zey ‘ad to, does not mean zey should ‘ave, or zat zey did it properly. You know ze things I did when I was eighteen, then ‘ow can you judge ze boy for getting caught up in ‘is emotions during a hard time? Did you never do anyzing rash in your life, Molly?”

That had seemed to stump both Bill and Molly for a good minute, until Ginny declared that being a kid did not excuse Ron from being named Prat of The Year. Ron, who had turned a dangerous shade of scarlet with shame during the whole shouting match, had not uttered a single word to defend himself. Harry knew Ron still felt guilty for leaving and agreed with his sister’s title for him, but he and Hermione could not help but defend Ron from his family, especially when they did not know the complete version of the events that had lead to the dissent between them.

Once everyone had quieted down, Harry realized that the best way to properly explain everything would be to start with Voldemort’s origins. So he quickly began, “Alright, I’ve figured out from where I should start this – did you all know that Voldemort was actually a half-blood?”

At the confused stares of his finally quiet audience, he continued, “Yeah, he was a half blood. His father was a muggle but unfortunately his mother, the witch, was a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin – Merope Gaunt. One of the last living descendants actually.”

“Wait, like Gormlaith Gaunt – the witch who kidnapped her niece for twelve years?” Mrs. Weasley asked, and Hermione nodded, “Yes exactly like her. The Gaunts were her descendants but by the time Merope was born, they were extremely poor and lived in a small shack in a small village and they were mostly insane because of inbreeding to keep their bloodlines pure.”

“So zis Merope, she married a muggle? 'ow did zat happen?” Fleur asked, looking determined to get them to stick to the story.

“Dumbledore had a collection of some memories regarding Voldemort, which helped him plot a rough timeline and a very detailed character sketch of sorts for the wizard who used to be known as Tom Riddle, the name he shared with his muggle father.”

“Ah, yes - the diary of Tom Marvolo Riddle.” Mr. Weasley said quietly as he exchanged a glance with Ginny.

“Yeah – his middle name was very important to him, you see. Marvolo Gaunt was his grandfather and he was sent to Azkaban for attacking a Ministry official who came to arrest his son for jinxing a muggle in the nearby village. This muggle being Tom Riddle Sr. - the man Merope Gaunt had a crush on. Dumbledore thinks that once Merope was alone and not being abused by her father, she manipulated Tom into somehow drinking a love potion or something and eventually married and got pregnant, after which Tom Riddle left her. Apparently, when he came back, he told people he was hoodwinked and jinxed and she basically gave birth to Tom Riddle Jr. in an orphanage, where he stayed until Dumbledore found him eleven years later.”

“Wait, before you go further, tell them about the orphanage – how he was before Hogwarts.” Hermione said, and Harry nodded, continuing to the attentively listening crowd. 

“Right – so when Dumbledore went to fetch Tom from this orphanage, he was already aware of his powers and using them to control others around him. Kids he didn’t like or –”

“Wait, he was controlling his magic at eleven years old?” Mr. Weasley asked incredulously, and Harry nodded, but it was Hermione who continued.

“I suspect it was because of the sudden addition of muggle blood to a line of purebloods inbred over centuries. It somehow made the magic more powerful and refined, but that’s just my theory. Anyway, Riddle was using his magic to control and kill animals and torture kids and their pets – anyone who annoyed him at any point. He was a bully and also a thief; when Dumbledore found him he had a small collection of inanimate things that he collected like prizes for successfully bullying someone. I think the main things of note were that at that point in time, he already liked to operate alone without any dependence on anyone, he hated his name because it was too common and he wasn’t surprised when he found out he was a wizard. His exact words were, I think, ‘I always knew I was different, or special. I always knew there was something.’ Right, Harry?”

Harry nodded and continued quickly, “There’s one other thing of note. Dumbledore asked the matron of the orphanage about Riddle before meeting him –”

“More like got her drunk and made her spill all the secrets.” Ron snorted, and Hermione gave a slight sniff of disapproval. There were exclamations of disbelief from among their audience.

“That’s quite unethical - Dumbledore wouldn’t do that, would he?” Mr. Weasley asked but Hermione replied quickly, shooting Ron a reproachful look, “He just wanted to make sure what kind of boy he was before admitting him to Hogwarts!”

"Er – right,” Harry said, wondering if they would have to clarify Dumbledore’s mistakes to this crowd. He wasn’t exactly keen on discussing the Headmaster’s life, it felt like unnecessary gossip now. “Where was I?”

“Dumbledore got the matron drunk.” George replied helpfully, with a hint of a smirk.

“Right. Yeah so he, er – persuaded her to tell him everything odd about Riddle. There were two main incidents – he argued with a boy one time and the next day they found his rabbit hung from the rafters. He said he didn’t do it and nobody saw anything so they couldn’t do anything about it and secondly, they went out to a village by the sea for a summer outing and he convinced two kids to go exploring with him. They all went inside a cave and, well – nobody knows what he did to them or how, but something happened inside that cave. Those two kids – the matron said they were never quite right in the head again.”

There was a somewhat chilled silence before Ron interrupted it, “And all the other kids were scared of him. He bullied them but nobody ever confessed and they were never able to catch him at it.”

Bill gave a slight whistle and Fleur merely looked rather fearful, “And zat was ‘im _before_ ‘ogwarts.”

“Yeah. Moving on, he arrived at the school and he was nothing like the boy Dumbledore had met. He was a handsome, sweet, polite but clever orphan – always top of his class, always curious, always full marks, never a toe out of line. He was a prefect, head boy, got an award for special services to the school and all the teachers loved him and were sympathetic because he was an orphan despite being unusually talented. _But_ – he always remained extra careful around Dumbledore. The sixteen year old Riddle that came out of the diary had said ‘Dumbledore never seemed to like me as much as the other teachers did.’ He knew this was because he had seen the other side of him at the orphanage and so he remained extra vigilant around Dumbledore. This was also, perhaps the reason everyone says Dumbledore’s the only one he was afraid of – because he knew Dumbledore had seen what he was like before Hogwarts.”

“You’re forgetting something.” It was Ginny, surprisingly, who interrupted this time. She looked almost pale and Harry was reminded, yet again, that he was not the only one who had had a close encounter with Voldemort at the age of eleven. “He was a parselmouth too, wasn’t he?”

Hermione made a small noise of understanding beside him and he nodded slowly before continuing, “He told Dumbledore that when he met him the first time. He already knew before he was eleven that he could talk to snakes. And that, incidentally, is also how he opened the Chamber of Secrets in his sixth year. He was the direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin, after all. He didn’t tell anybody, however, and blamed Hagrid for it. That’s why Hagrid got expelled.”

There were surprised mutters of Hagrid’s name around them and Hermione rolled her eyes, whispering lowly, “Did you have to?”

Harry shrugged, grinning. Everyone deserved to know that Hagrid was innocent and exactly how so.

“Well, we knew Hagrid was innocent and everything but we didn’t know it was You-Know-Who who framed him.” Mrs. Weasley said, still looking amazed at the knowledge. Neville, however, was frowning.

“That’s all good, but I didn’t know Hagrid was that old. He was at Hogwarts the same time as You-Know-Who?”

“Yeah. I think Hagrid was in third year when Riddle was in sixth.” Ron said, looking sideways at Harry to confirm, who nodded, “He opened the chamber and he was quite happily watching muggleborns get killed until the Headmaster Dippet said that the school would close unless they found the killer.”

“And whatever else he might’ve done, Voldemort loved Hogwarts.” Harry said, taking over again, “It was the only home he had ever known, so he found an opportunity and framed Hagrid for the whole thing. Hagrid had just hatched Aragog, you see – the giant acromantula that died a year ago, so he told the Headmaster about it, got Hagrid expelled and got a reward for Special services to the school. This also let everyone believe Aragog was the monster from the Chamber that had killed the muggleborn girl, who was Moaning Myrtle, by the way.”

More exclamations followed this and Ginny gave a loud snort.

“Wait, what was the monster inside the Chamber then? We never found out.” Neville said suddenly and Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny replied together, “A Basilisk.”

Fleur’s elbow, which had been resting on the table, slipped and she said loudly, “No way!”

“You’re kidding.” Neville said weakly, and Luna looked more surprised than anything else she had heard yet.

“A basilisk. Inside Hogwarts.” She said in a serious tone, her eyes as wide as ever but no dreamy quality in her voice. Harry could only nod.

Fleur turned to Bill, “I give up, you win. ‘ogwarts eez officially cooler zan Beauxbatons. Our kid eez going ‘ere.”

Luna, however, was not done, “So it’s true then, you _are_ a parselmouth.”

Neville was still looking at him in an amazed sort of way. Harry, who had forgotten his rather publicized attempt at controlling a snake during Dueling Club in second year, nodded uncomfortably.

“That’s a useful skill to have.” Luna said seriously in her old matter-of-fact voice.

“Er yes, but not unless you’ve adopted snakes.”

“Or need to open a secret chamber under a magical castle and save the life of your best friend’s sister.” Ginny added, smirking.

“I don’t know zis story.” Fleur said, looking from Bill to Ginny, plainly wondering why neither of them had ever mentioned it.

“It wasn’t my story to tell.” Bill shrugged and Ginny simply did not meet Fleur’s eyes before saying, “I’m sure we’ll discuss it now.”

“We’re getting sidetracked.” Luna said in her usual dreamy singsong voice, her shock apparently abated.

“Oh, yeah. So where were we? Riddle came to Hogwarts and opened the Chamber in his sixth year. When he left school at seventeen, everyone expected him to –”

“Harry, you’re forgetting the main part.” Hermione interrupted in an irritated voice and he frowned at her confusedly.

“Mate, the reason Dumbledore brought in Slughorn for our sixth year.” Ron said, and Harry realized suddenly, the hocruxes.

“Oh.” He said stupidly, slapping a hand to his forehead. How had he forgotten that Riddle had actually done all that while he was still at school?

“Right. Sorry. I think we gotta go back a little. It’s the most important part of tonight, I think.” He saw the focus on all the faces around him sharpen considerably.

“I actually meant the diary. You forgot to explain why he created it.” Hermione said exasperatedly, and after an encouraging nod from Harry she briefly explained it’s importance.

“When Voldemort opened the Chamber of Secrets, he couldn’t tell anyone that it was him, obviously, because he was murdering students. But he wanted to record proof of the fact that he had done it, so he got a normal diary and enchanted it to store memories of his sixteen year old self, with proof of his opening of the Chamber, intending to release it later, to impress his followers I’m sure.”

“When Voldemort came to Hogwarts, he had believed for a while that his mother was the muggle and that his father was the wizard, because if she was a witch, how did she die? He searched the records for a mention of Tom Riddle but he didn’t find anything. He didn’t know anything about his mother or her family, except that his middle name Marvolo was shared by his Grandfather. As soon as he went looking for that, he knew his mother was the witch and he quickly found out what had happened to the Gaunts. He was fourteen or fifteen, I think, when he went to the Gaunt shack to search for his grandfather but only found Morfin there – Merope’s brother and his Uncle. Morfin told him about the muggle across the hill his sister had run away with and married. He told him how Tom Riddle had abandoned his mother during pregnancy and that was the night Voldemort killed his father and both his paternal grandparents.”

Another bout of shocked silence followed this part, but it was broken almost immediately by Hermione, “That’s not even the worst part. He committed these murders with Morfin’s wand and altered his memories so that he thought he was the one who committed the murders. And when the Ministry went to investigate the next day, Morfin confessed and they stuck him in Azkaban for the rest of his life.”

There was a short uncomfortable silence, before Mr. Weasley broke it, “But if Dumbledore told you all this, why didn’t he try to get Morfin released?”

Everyone including Ron and Hermione turned to Harry, who scratched his head, trying to remember properly, “Uh, I think it was many years before Dumbledore was properly on Riddle’s trail and trying to find out everything about his past. I remember he said he had to perform some very advanced Legilimency on Morfin to obtain the memory and he even showed it to the Ministry to get him released, but before they reached a decision, Morfin had died. It was very lucky Dumbledore found him when he did.”

“Was it?” Hermione said suddenly. Every head turned to her this time and she cast Harry a furtive look before continuing, “Maybe Dumbledore’s memory intrusive magic was not exactly helpful for an old inbred wizard who was already mentally unstable.”

Harry was dimly aware of his mouth hanging open and the others casting Hermione uncomfortable looks. How could she think something like that? How could she even –

“Okay, that’s really beside the point.” Ron said quickly, casting Harry a warning glance that simple said, _Not now._

“I think it’s time to explain, exactly what it was that Dumbledore asked us to do all this last year.”

Ron’s words had the effect of a silencing spell. There was a chilling quiet over everyone once again, he could distinctly hear the distant sounds of the gnomes slowly returning to the Weasley’s back garden.

“There were two things Voldemort was obsessed with during his time at Hogwarts – his parentage and immortality.” Harry began carefully, wanting to make sure he imposed the importance of what he was saying over everyone present. The summer night had lost it’s warmth suddenly, and his heart was beating rather fast.

“We know he found proof of his Slytherin inheritance when he found Morfin Gaunt. There was something I skipped over during that story. Marvolo Gaunt prized nothing more than the artifacts which had been passed down through generations of his pureblood family. One of these artifacts was a huge golden locket with the emblem of Slytherin’s House on it – it was supposed to belong to Slytherin at some point and as direct descendants, Marvolo inherited it. This was stolen by Merope when she ran off with Tom Riddle Sr. and Marvolo Gaunt never forgave her for it. The second artifact was Marvolo Gaunt’s ring – inscribed with the Peverell coat of arms, it had also been in the family for centuries. This ring was lost by Morfin the night of the Riddles’ murder and he seemed to have no memory of how he lost the ring. It was the only thing that bothered him about that night till he died.”

Harry took a deep breath, trying to calm himself; he was almost there, “It was obvious that the ring had been stolen by Voldemort once he had modified Morfin’s memory. He wore it through the rest of his Hogwarts years, during which he researched his other passion – the solution to death. When he found this… solution, he went to Slughorn to confirm that it would work and it was this memory that Dumbledore needed from Professor Slughorn. This memory was the reason that he forcibly brought Professor Slughorn out of retirement at the beginning of our sixth year.”

Harry could taste the anticipation on the air now, see it reflected palely on every one of the nervous faces. He turned to Hermione and gave a single nod. She seemed to get his message, but trembled slightly before beginning.

“Voldemort had decided that a hocrux was the best way to beat death. A hocrux is a vile thing – the product of the darkest of magics. It is an object in which a wizard stores a part of his soul.”

She breathed deeply as everyone around them exchanged confused glances. Harry knew they didn’t understand the depth of the word yet and simply looked at Hermione, waiting for her to gather herself.

“_A part of his _– ?”

“Soul, yes. A Hocrux,” She began again, eye closed and voice rather shrill, “is a fool proof way to protect oneself from death, because even if someone manages to kill your living body and the part of your soul residing in it, the other part of your soul remains alive and undamaged in the Hocrux and hence, you are not completely dead.”

There was undeniable shock on everyone’s face as they comprehended her words. The night seemed to be turning darker and more chilled by the second, but Hermione did not pause for long, determined to get her definition out of the way.

“ A Hocrux is formed by splitting one’s soul and taking one half of the soul and putting it inside another object instead of your own living body. Splitting a soul is an act of great unnaturalness, as the soul is meant to be whole, pure. So to split a soul, one has to perform the ultimate act against nature, that is kill another human being. Then a spell is used to transfer the parts of your soul into another object.

A Hocrux is the exact opposite of a living being. When the body dies, the soul residing in it remains untarnished and simply moves on. The part of your soul inside a Hocrux, however, alternately depends on the enchanted vessel to remain intact. The part of your soul inside the Hocrux also has the freedom of flitting temporarily into other living bodies that are close to it. That is why, once your actual body is gone, the Hocrux can be used to bring you back.”

There was silence and the night was thick with shock, even the gnomes and various creatures in the Weasleys’ backyard seemed to have quieted. Every one of the nine faces in front of them displayed horror – Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Fleur were too horrified for words and Bill and Ginny seemed to be searching their faces for any hint of joke or untruthfulness. Neville was staring, looking dumbstruck at Hermione, who was still regulating her breathing, eyes still determinedly closed against the horrified silence.

Harry instinctively grabbed her hand under the table, squeezing it tightly in his own. Hermione’s breath seemed to shudder. Luna, too, was blinking wildly at the three of them, but it was George who recovered first.

“Bring you back.” He said in a hollow, empty voice. It seemed to jolt everyone out of their shock and immediately submerge into panic.

“_No, no_ – we got rid of them, don’t worry, don’t worry.” Ron said before anyone could launch into full panic mode but it did not have the desired effect.

“_Them? THEM?!_” Mrs. Weasley screamed searchingly at the three of them, looking like she blamed them for the creation of the damn hocruxes. Red sparks flew from her wand, colliding with the silvery barrier and ricocheting off dangerously.

“Molly.” Mr. Weasley said, for the first time ever in an admonishing voice to his wife. She immediately seemed to realize and with what looked like a great effort, tried to calm herself. She was already out of her chair; she started walking towards the kitchen door, wringing her hands, as if at a loss for what to do.

Bill and Fleur got up after her and Fleur waved her wand. A glass of water was poured and floated towards Mrs. Weasley, who was now sobbing into Bill’s shoulder, who was doing his best to calm her.

Hermione, who had been clutching Harry’s hand like a lifeline, suddenly bent towards him and Ron, rasping out, “I can’t do this for long.”

Harry knew that while Hermione was brilliant and probably the brightest witch of the century, she had frail nerves and would rather not spend any longer than necessary telling the whole story. Ron nodded silently and waved his wand into the night.

A bottle of firewhiskey and eleven glasses floated out to the table and settled themselves in the center as Ron got up and walked over to Mrs. Weasley.

“Mum, we got rid of the old bastard, didn’t we? It’s already over, can we please just tell you everything and go to sleep? We all have lots to do tomorrow, don’t we?” Ron said quietly, so that only he and Hermione could hear. The others were busy pouring firewhiskey according to their needs. Mr. Weasley took a rather large helping before refilling it.

“What I don’t understand,” He began as his wife sat back beside him, “is why Dumbledore didn’t tell anyone else about this. Why did it have to be you three? No offense, kids, but there were much more talented wizards around who could’ve helped you.”

“Ah.” Harry said haltingly – it was time to explain the prophecy and Snape’s role in all of it.

“We’ll get to that part too, but let’s finish this Hocrux problem first. Plainly speaking, You-Know-Who aimed to create seven Hocruxes because he thought that was the most magical number and that one just wasn’t enough.”

There was a roar of disbelief and horror and Mrs. Weasley looked so white that Harry was sure she would’ve fainted if not for the whiskey.

“Right. Let’s get back to our story. Dumbledore had suspected Riddle of this ever since he had first gotten hold of Slughorn’s fake memory where it looks like he’s telling Tom that he doesn’t know about Hocruxes. When Harry finally got a hold of the real memory from Slughorn in our sixth year, Dumbledore’s theory was confirmed and he was sure that Voldemort had made six Hocruxes because he was saving the seventh one for Harry’s death.” Hermione casting a fleeting look in his direction – he shook his head imperceptibly, _it has to be told in order for them to understand properly_ – and she continued.

“Since he was sure that these objects were in Voldemort’s possession, Dumbledore thought that the Peverell Ring which he stole from his Uncle, Slytherin’s locket and Helga Hufflepuff’s Cup – both of which he stole from an old lady called Hepabziah Smith, and the diary which contained the proof of his connection to Slytherin, were all Hocruxes.” 

As expected, Ginny gave a gasp of horror, “That diary was a Hocrux?” She covered her mouth with a trembling hand, looking pale and sweaty, as though she was about to be sick. Harry, Hermione and Ron nodded apologetically and after making sure that Ginny was not going to vomit, Harry continued.

“Yes, Dumbledore said that he suspected it because of the odd quality that the memory inside the diary did not act like a memory but like a soul. It could think for itself, beyond what was recorded in it, possess others and leave the diary temporarily. It wasn’t just a memory. Also, when I stabbed the diary with a basilisk fang, it seemed to bleed ink like a living thing. That proved things further because there are only two ways to destroy a Hocrux – Fiendfyre and Basilisk Venom.”

There was only more silence at this and it was a few moments before Ginny got up and went towards bushes. There was a faint noise of her emptying her dinner into the plants.

As Mrs. Weasley, Fleur and Luna hurried towards Ginny, Harry squeezed Hermione’s hand. She was doing well and they had been talking for only an hour and a half. Hopefully, they would be able to get past the whole thing before it struck the three hour mark.

Once Ginny was set right by Mrs. Weasley, everyone had resumed their seats and Harry quickly picked up where he had left.

“Dumbledore knew that these four objects were definitely Hocruxes – the Cup, the Locket, the Diary and the Ring. He suspected that since Riddle was so attached to Hogwarts, he wanted something that belonged to Ravenclaw and Gryffindor to add to his collection. At the time we had this discussion, he was also sure that Voldemort had decided to add Nagini to that collection. However, at the end of sixth year, the last we had a proper talk, Dumbledore had managed to locate and destroy the ring and I had destroyed the Diary. We were already two Hocruxes down and he was looking for more.”

“So that’s where he used to go when he left the castle?” Ginny said in a raspy voice, then cleared her throat before fixing them with a stare.

“Yeah and the night he – the night the battle broke out, we went to get it.”

“He took you with him? I still don’t understand that part. _Why?_” Mr. Weasley frowned and Harry wondered, again, if he should clarify Snape’s position and the Prophecy. He looked at Hermione and Ron and they both nodded.

“Er – you guys remember the prophecy?”

“The one that got smashed at the Ministry?” Luna said interestedly, and Harry nodded.

“Yeah, er – turns out that it didn’t matter that it got smashed because it was made to Dumbledore by Professor Trelawney the night he interviewed her for a job.”

“You’re kidding.” Bill said, and Ginny gave another loud snort, shaking her head in disbelief. Luna merely looked interested and Neville looked skeptical.

“Yeah, she wasn’t aware that she had done it but Dumbledore knew that she was in too much danger outside so he hired her. And the reason for this danger is that while she was making the prophecy, a Death Eater had been listening at the door and had been thrown out by the barman so that he only heard half it. He ran off to Voldemort and told him the half he had listened to and only when Voldemort decided that it was Lily Potter’s son that the prophecy referred to, did he realize his mistake.”

Before anyone could ask the obvious question, Hermione added, “The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, Born to those who have thrice defied him, Born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, But he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives."

There was a pregnant pause at this point, and George cleared his throat rather loudly, “Well, that does explain some things. Why does it matter if he heard the second part, though?”

“Ah,” Harry said, casting a furtive glance in Neville’s direction. Most of his injuries seemed to have healed but he still had a large purple bruise on his eye and several cuts covered with yellow paste. The combined shallow light from the three hanging suns gave his face an odd, distorted look. He looked suddenly paler but stared unblinkingly at Harry, as if he had realized exactly why it was important. Before he could reply, however, Hermione answered.

“Because Voldemort didn’t realize that in marking Harry, he would give him the powers to destroy him. Dumbledore used to say it was love, but I think it was more of a situational thing. In marking Harry, Voldemort had to kill his parents and anyone else who stood in the way. This made Harry hate him and even if there was no prophecy, he would have the desire to seek revenge and would go after Voldemort just to see him finished and have the satisfaction of doing it himself.”

“Personally, I think that power was allowing me to look into his mind when he was angry or such. Anyway,” He continued hastily at Hermione’s expression, “All in all, it’s the difference between being thrown into an arena to battle and walking in with your head held high.” Harry finished off, chancing a glance at Neville again, who was frowning now but still looking at Harry with a stiff gaze.

“That’s not why the second part is important, though.” Harry said, interrupting the nods and understanding murmurs of the others.

“It’s not?” Hermione said sharply, and Harry shook his head, remembering that he had not divulged this part of the prophecy to her or Ron.

“The second part was important because the prophecy actually referred to two wizard children at the time – both born at the end of July and both of whose parents had escaped Voldemort thrice. Voldemort could choose which one he wanted to make the enemy – which one he wanted to mark and give these powers. If he had heard the second part, he could’ve chosen more carefully. That second child was Neville.”

There were unmistakable gasps from everyone this time as they turned their heads collectively to look at the round faced teenager, who was red in the face. Before anyone had time to respond, Harry continued.

“There was another reason behind this – the Death Eater who had listened at the door was Snape. And he was my mother’s childhood best friend, which is why he immediately thought that the prophecy referred to her and begged Voldemort to spare her life. That’s what turned Voldemort’s attention to me instead of Neville. And that’s why Dumbledore trusted Snape – the power of love.”

Harry was realizing half of everything as he spoke, but he knew it to be true. Now that he had some time to properly let Snape’s memories sink in, everything made more and more sense.

“I suspect that’s also the reason he hated you so much Neville. Probably wished that it had been you instead of me.”

Neville was still speechless from his last realization and stared at Harry for a few teetering moments with his mouth hanging open slightly, before hurriedly pouring himself a glass of firewhiskey and gulping it rather noisily. Harry found that he was able to breathe a little easier as soon as he had shared the information, even though there was still a long way to go.

Once Neville had settled, Hermione continued immediately, not giving anyone much time to recover or express surprise. Harry was sure she wanted to keep going as quickly as possible so that they could all get to the actual journey. Knowing what all they had done during the year and the expected reactions, Harry couldn’t blame her.

“Well, the night Dumbledore died, Harry realized that the locket he and Dumbledore had found that night had been replaced by someone else. We had no further clue to go on except that the person was called R.A.B. and that he had hoped to destroy the original Hocrux – the locket, himself.”

“We also thought, at that time,” Harry interrupted, “that Snape was a Death Eater and had killed Dumbledore, when actually Dumbledore had been dying already. He had accidentally touched the ring without enough protection and it caused a curse to spread through his body. Snape was able to slow it down, but he gave Dumbledore a year left to live. This was at the start of my sixth year, that’s why Dumbledore decided to tell me everything he knew about Voldemort before the year was up. He knew he was dying – and he ordered Snape to kill him to make sure Malfoy wouldn’t have to taint his soul.”

Harry spat out the last part, shamelessly bitter and saw Mr. Weasley lean forward, frowning sharply, “When did you come to know all of this? We thought Snape fled Hogwarts as soon as you had arrived?”

Bill was also paying sharper attention than Harry had expected, and asked immediately, “And why would Dumbledore touch the ring carelessly when he knew it was a Hocrux? That seems awfully rash – not like him at all.”

Harry exchanged a sideways glance with Ron and Hermione, uncomfortable. He didn’t like that the story was getting sidetracked so much but they couldn’t hope to continue without clarifying the rather genuine doubts everyone seemed to have.

“Er – can we clarify the Dumbledore related doubts at the end? We still have a whole lot of stuff to get through.” Ron said, and for a split second, again, Harry was sure Bill wouldn’t concede to the request but then he was leaning back on his chair and nodding grudgingly.

“And we were able to see Snape just before Voldemort f-finished with him,” Hermione added, giving an odd little shudder. “Yeah, he’d set the snake on him and left but Snape managed to give us his memories before he – well.” Ron finished disgustedly.

“Yeah, I put together half of the pieces last night itself after going through Snape’s memories, but we’ll be able to tell you everything in a less jumbled way, I think.” Harry said, looking at Hermione who nodded encouragingly. But as he opened his mouth again, Ron drew hesitantly forward.

“Er – Mum? Could I have something to eat? I’m sort of hungry again.” Ron said abashedly, but Mrs. Weasley only glowed, nodding with her eyes a little bright, before tottering off into the kitchen briskly.

“Now that you mention it, I’m a bit peckish myself. Haven’t had a proper meal in two days.” Harry said bracingly, sure that Ron was embarrassed and wanted to simply relish his mother’s cooking after having missed it for so long.

As Ginny and Luna retreated to the kitchen to help Mrs. Weasley and probably get some more food out, Harry hurriedly beckoned Ron and Hermione nearer to his side.

“Look, I know we said everything, but I still say only Hocruxes, not Hallows.” He whispered, and continued on quickly before Ron could protest – Hermione looked doubtful but didn’t interrupt – “I mean no offense to you both but I saw the look on your faces when we were in Dumbledore’s office last. I’m not saying I don’t trust you two but it just goes to prove that the best witches or wizards cannot be trusted to not be seduced by the Hallows if they think they’re real.”

He saw them both exchange a glance and a pondering look towards Mrs. Weasley setting the table with snacks and the others talking quietly seemed to nail home his point. He saw the agreement and realization on their faces before either could say anything and started speaking before they could respond, a note of finality in his voice.

“Great then, leave all the Dumbledore related questions to me and don’t look at each other while I’m lying my ass off to my family. You’re both a dead fucking giveaway.”


	3. Not so Total Recall

** _Chapter 3_ **

_2nd May, 1998_

“Did you all get to read Skeeter’s book then? Because it’ll be useless answering questions if you don’t know what all she has published.”

He saw everyone exchange looks and slowly setting their plates and forks down, before Mrs. Weasley answered, “Well, none of us have read it Harry, but we’ve heard enough about what all she has published from Muriel.”

The rest of the Weasley grunted their agreement but Bill and Fleur shook their heads, “Well, not us. We didn’t let that filth in the house but we heard rumors at the Ministry.”

“And it was well publicized inside Hogwarts so we all know the gist of it. Why is this important, again? I thought we weren’t discussing Dumbledore till after you lot finished with your shenanigans?” Ginny looked almost cross, as if they were implying that Skeeter was right and would hex them if they dared to utter it. Neville seemed to agree with her but settled for frowning heavily at the three, clearly not looking forward to this.

“Alright then. Well, we won’t bother to clarify what she wrote. We’ll just tell you what we know happened.”

“And how do you know this?” Bill asked and Ron replied hastily, “Aberforth. But we wouldn’t go asking him about it. He… he didn’t look in his right mind when we showed up the night of the battle and told him we wanted to get inside the castle. He was trying to dissuade us but we know he was telling the truth.”

Once everyone had finished giving each other uncomfortable glances and sat up straight, ready to hear something they were sure they wouldn’t like, Harry started in the most matter-of-fact voice he could manage.

“Well, Skeeter got some things right. But I’m going to tell the version Aberforth told me and it’s hard enough to… so don’t interrupt me. Dumbledore’s sister Arianna was doing some accidental magic when she was six when some muggle boys saw her and… and tried to make her do it again. They bullied her but she was obviously scared and couldn’t do anything so they… they got a bit carried away in trying to make her do it again.”

Harry closed his eyes on the dimly lit horrified faces in front of him, and gulped down a glass of water when it was pressed into his hands, slopping most on the sides. He couldn’t even hear anyone breathing.

“His father, Percival, he hunted down the muggle boys and he got sent to Azkaban. His mother Kendra moved to Godric’s Hollow with the three children and because Arianna was in a gentle state, they didn’t make any friends of the neighbors and kept her in secret. Aberforth and Arianna were close and she used to listen to him when she wouldn’t listen to their mother. She had bouts of accidental magic and only he could calm her down. And they knew that the Ministry wouldn’t allow her to stay with them if they found out so they hid her and parroted the story that she was too ill for school. Bathilda Bagshot tried to befriend Kendra Dumbledore but it didn’t work and when Albus when to school, she got in touch with him through letters about his achievements and they became friends. After his graduation when his mother died, Dumbledore had to return home and take care of the family and he wasn’t happy about it. He was bitter because he wanted to travel the world, study more and do great things but he was stuck at home taking care of his stupid brother and the unbalanced sister.”

Harry swallowed a gulp of air, feeling like he was drowning but he couldn’t manage to open his eyes or keep the bitterness from his voice. He was _young_. Albus Dumbledore was _young_. He was young, didn’t grow up in war and he wanted to be famous. There was nothing wrong with that. He was reckless and stupid and _young_.

Still not daring to open his eyes, he forced the shaking in his hands to stop and continued when Ron and Hermione grasped each one from their sides.

“Gellert Grindelwald was Bathilda Bagshot’s nephew and he was expelled from Durmstrang because of his shady actions. He came at the start of summer and Bathilda introduced the two, thinking that they were both brilliant and the same age and the company would do them good. And it did – they connected immediately and Dumbledore approved of the idea of wizards ruling over muggles because then Arianna wouldn’t have to be kept quiet and he would be free to leave them behind. Of course, he agreed that this was all for the Greater Good because it was better for muggles to be ruled by wizards for their own good. And to put their plans into action, they decided to go hunt for the Deathly Hallows. Yes, the three fabled magical objects that make the owner the Master of Death – and they believed wholeheartedly that they existed. But the night before they were supposed to leave, Aberforth confronted them about their plans and how he planned to take care of his sister on the hunt. Grindelwald didn’t like that so he Crucioed Aberforth and they started fighting and it upset Arianna and she died. They never knew which of the three did it, they never found out. Grindelwald used the sign of the Hallows as his symbol and The Greater Good as the emblem for his campaign and fled the country immediately after her death. Aberforth broke Dumbledore’s nose at the funeral because he blamed him and went on to run the Hog’s Head. Dumbledore learned that he didn’t deserve power and couldn’t be trusted with it so he spent his life turning down the post of Minister of Magic.”

There was horrified silence broken by the occasional sob from Hermione and probably Mrs. Weasley, but Harry knew there was nothing to be done. He wanted to examine his feelings and take time to accept the truth that his mentor was not a perfect human being but a flawed man but he had decided that this was not the time to do it. His body felt too hollow and his throat too tight and he needed firewhiskey.

Finally opening his eyes and reaching for the bottle, he tried hard to keep his cool and pretend that the story did not bother him as much as it did or that he could not see Mr. Weasley and Neville wiping at their eyes while Ginny still stared at him open mouthed. Fleur looked faintly green even in the shallow light and was heavily supported by Bill, who looked like he had just swallowed stinksap.

George, like Ginny was too shocked to do anything but when Harry turned his eyes on him, he quickly picked up the bottle Harry had placed and drank a considerable mouthful before turning away from him. Luna, however, was staring unperturbed at Harry like he was a difficult puzzle she was trying to solve. Harry hastily looked away. Had Xenophilius Lovegood raised his daughter with the same beliefs as himself?

“Since you’re aware of the tale of the Deathly Hallows and Dumbledore’s obsession with it, I can tell you that the ring Marvolo Gaunt had that Voldemort made into a hocrux had the Peverell coat of arms, which looks like the symbol of the Deathly Hallows. So when Dumbledore found the ring, he thought he was seeing one of the Deathly Hallows and he forgot himself and touched it and thought he was going to see his mother and Arianna, but of course it was just a hocrux and cursed him instead.”

That, at least covered up the most difficult parts of the story. Now they only had Ron’s brief break to get through and they could, hopefully, finish up without anybody cursing anyone.

“Right. I understand that now.” Bill said suddenly, heaving a deep sigh and it seemed to break everyone out of their stupor. Ginny still looked faintly red and angry but something in Harry’s face stopped her from saying her thoughts aloud and she only huffed angrily and sat back, folding her arms and legs on her chair

Then Mr. Weasley did something that Harry hadn't known he'd needed until it happened. He waved his wand and glasses filled with firewhiskey floated over to all of them once again, but this time he raised his glass up in the air.

“To Albus Dumbledore, a great wizard and a flawed human being.”

Everyone drank deeply but no one more so than Harry, who blamed his moist eyes on the sharp burning in his throat. The roast seemed to have given everyone courage and sense enough to pass over the topic they had just discussed, gut-wrenching though it was, and come back to the main event they had been discussing.

“So you lot had a fake locket instead of the real hoxcrux at the start of your journey. What happened after you went to Grimmauld Place? We only know that you were there because of Remus and after that all we heard was that you infiltrated the Minsitry that one time.”

George spoke in a tone that made it sound like he was anxious to get all the details out in the open and leave them all behind and go to bed. Harry did not wait for the others to get over their shocks and absorb the information enough to let them continue. If they talked at a pace comfortable with everyone, this would take decades.

“Right, so we went to Grimmauld Place after the wedding and there we discovered that RAB was Regulus Arcturus Black.” Hermione began this time, and Harry sat back with a sigh of relief.

“Sirius’ brother?” Mr. Weasley frowned and they all nodded before continuing, “We only knew that he was killed by Voldemort personally and we also realized that there was a huge locket in the drawing room cupboard that we couldn’t open, you guys remember?”

Hermione turned to George, Ginny and Mrs. Weasley, who gasped loudly and covered her mouth with her hands.

“I do, I do. The big gold one that wouldn’t open.” She said breathlessly and Ginny and George nodded too, looking faintly disgusted.

“Yes, that was the hocrux. So we hoped that Kreature had stolen it while we were busy and Harry called him to ask. He told us that when Regulus became a Death Eater, Voldemort asked to borrow his house elf.” She flicked her gaze to Harry, who reluctantly took up the rest of the story.

“Well, Kreacher described the cave that Dumbeldore and I had gone to get the locket and we understood that he was testing his defenses. The cave was infested with Inferi and in the central island the locket was hidden beneath a potion that made you relive your worst memories – sort of like Dementors. Anyway, when Kreacher went with Voldemort, he was forced to drink the potion and Voldemort left him there.”

Hermione twitched at his side and a small noise left her throat but he pushed on – this was not the time for house-elf rights, “Regulus had told Kreacher to follow the Dark Lord’s instructions and return to him, however, so Kreacher returned and told Regulus everything. He must have figured out what Voldemort had done so he made the fake locket and he went back with Kreacher, drank the potion himself, told Kreacher to switch lockets and destroy the original at any cost and died trying to drink water from the inferi invested cave.” 

“Kreacher made it back but he couldn’t open or destroy the locket.” Hermione said, casting him a small thankful smile, “And Mundungus stole the locket from Grimmauld Place after Sirius’ death. We sent Kreacher to find Dung, but it turned out he had to give the locket away to a Ministry witch to not get arrested. You’ll never guess who.”

Hermione smirked at Ginny and Harry added to a confused George for help, “Looked like a toad, had a bow in her hair.”

Ron snorted as Ginny and George simultaneously groaned loudly, “Umbridge.”

“That’s right.” Hermione said, fighting a smile again, “When we learned she had the locket, we had to break into the Ministry to get it. It was almost going well if Harry hadn’t removed Mad-Eye’s eye from –”

“She stuck it in a door and spied on everyone through it!” Harry said hotly, not happy being blamed for all of their collective fuck-ups that day.

“Mad-Eye deserved better. He’s right, Hermione.” Ron nodded sagely from beside them, and Hermione snapped her jaw shut tightly before turning away and continuing, “Anyway. We found the hocrux down in the courtrooms, rescued a bunch of muggle borns and tried to apparate back to Grimmauld but Yaxley caught hold of us and we arrived right at the doorstep. I had to apparate us to the woods where the Quidditch World Cup was held immediately and Ron got splinched in the process.”

Ron grimaced heavily, knowing what was coming and shuffled his chair a little closer to Harry, sinking in it as low as he could manage.

“Well, then we roamed about for a while in the wild. We had a tent and the hocrux but we still had no idea how to destroy a hocrux. You see, the object had to destroyed beyond magical repair so that the hocrux couldn’t survive anymore and we weren’t sure what the way to do that was so we theorized where else we could find anymore hocruxes and oh, Harry - we’re so sorry we kept pushing down your suggestion about Hogwarts!”

She said suddenly turning to him, watery eyed, but he grasped her hand quickly, wiping at her eyes hastily.

“I know, I know, it’s alright. Anyway, we roamed about for a while and with increased security it was hard to come across proper food. We went hungry some nights and some nights we had a good meal, but it was clear that the presence of food affected our moods. Along with this, we were taking in turns to wear the hocrux around our necks and well, that wasn’t a very good idea.”

He turned back to Hermione, hesitant to go on. He knew how the hocrux affected him and Ron but he wondered what dark thoughts Hermione had had while wearing the vile object. She must have seen the question in his eyes, but she took over the story, extracting her hand from his quickly.

“Well, like I said, you can’t bond with a hocrux or let it near you for very long but we all didn’t really have much of a choice. We were taking turns to wear it – twelve hours per person, but whichever of us had it on, it affected our thoughts and feelings. Everything felt more horrible – I remember Harry couldn’t cast a patronus while he was wearing it. He got more depressed and moodier and moodier and Ron complained more and snapped at everything we had for food and I – I doubted myself over everything I’d ever done. I doubted if I was right to follow Harry, I doubted if I was smart enough to even be his friend, I doubted my parents were safe, I doubted my wards and my talent and everything from start to finish. I even used to think Harry and Ron were mad at me for coming along and that I was useless, a – a burden –”

“Hermione!” Harry said, shocked that she could even think such things, let alone give them a moment’s consideration.

“We wouldn’t have a lasted a day after the wedding if you weren’t with us!” Ron said, looking equally as shocked and Harry inwardly vowed to himself to compliment Hermione more on everything he could think of – shower her with praise every moment he could and generally make sure she never had the gall to entertain such stupid thoughts about herself.

“Blimey Hermione!” Harry said again, still too shocked to put into words his exact feelings on the matter. “You – you’re the brightest witch of your age and I’d be a dead man at eleven if not for you!”

“We’d both be goners if not for you!” Ron exclaimed, getting up from his chair and pulling her into a bone crushing hug – Harry followed immediately and held tight till her sobs subsided, Mrs. Weasley was blowing her nose loudly into a handkerchief. Ginny offered Hermione a similar hanky and hugged her, whispering reassurances until she had calmed down. Harry and Ron exchanged a look as they retook their seats, _Bloody Hell_.

“Anyway, one of these nights –”

“Let me take over, ‘Mione,” Harry said quickly, rubbing her back as she took her seat, and continued on at her grateful smile, “Right. So one of those nights we didn’t get any food other than some really funky mushrooms and Ron had been wearing the Hocrux for a long time, and we finally got some news from the rest of the world. We ran into Dean, Ted Tonks, Dirk Cresswell and Griphook and Gornuk. We were safe inside the tent and they couldn’t see us at all but were able to overhear them using Extendable Ears.” He sent a thankful look to George, before continuing. Ron shifted uncomfortably beside him.

“Well, we heard about you lot stealing the Sword of Gryffindor and Snape giving you detention and then the goblins said that the sword Snape sent to store in Gringotts was a fake. This confused us so we decided to talk to Phineas Nigellus through his portrait, which Hermione – brilliant witch that she is – had crammed into her bag while we were in Grimmauld to prevent him from spying on us.”

Hermione rolled her eyes but her cheeks pinked slightly as Harry continued, “We asked him when was the last time he saw Dumbledore using the sword and he said it was to break open a ring – that’s how we realized that the real sword had Basilisk venom on it because it’s goblin made, and goblin made artifacts don’t gather dust or rust, but only that which makes it stronger. So Basilisk venom.”

“Now we knew how to destroy the hocruxes but we didn’t know where the real sword was which created a huge problem. And then – er…”

Harry looked hastily at Ron, whose years had predictably turned pink, before continuing, “Well, Ron got worried about Ginny and the rest of you all because we hadn’t heard anything since the wedding and it was bothering him a lot. Not to mention, he had been wearing the hocrux and had been having horrible thoughts the whole day. Hearing them all talk about Ginny getting detention in the Forbidden Forest kind of made him snap, I think.”

“You thought right.” Ron said softly, in a voice that clearly indicated that he wanted to get his part over with as soon as possible, “Well, I blamed Harry for not knowing enough about anything and about not being worried because he didn’t have any family to be worried about. And about trusting Dumbledore blindly and about leading us wrong. He said some things too, and we – we, fought and I left.”

Before Mrs. Weasley could cook Ron alive with her looks or Mr. Weasley and Bill could shrink him to two inches tall with the intensity of their disappointed glares, Harry interfered again.

“But he more than made up for it by saving my life later on. I’d rather we just get on with it and tell you what happened next – we’ve already had the ‘We’re disappointed in you’ discussion, right?”

Ginny threw him a nasty look that said he was pushing it, before returning to level her menacing glare at Ron. Neville looked like he sympathized at least but was looking most uncomfortable with the family drama. George was the only one who looked at Ron contemplatively, most likely recalling Fleur’s words about the whole scenario.

“Well, we stopped talking about Ron when it was just us but we finally figured we should go to Godric’s Hollow – I thought that Dumbledore might’ve left the real sword there and Harry wanted to visit his parents.” Hermione said, bravely attempting to move past the unpleasantness. Everyone seemed to reluctantly refocus on her as she spoke, and Harry saw Ron giving her a relieved look, even as Ginny did not move her eyes from him.

“It happened to be Christmas Eve when we went there and we saw the graves and – and well, I thought that Godric’s Hollow was a bit obvious and that Voldemort might have someone stationed there, and well – I was right.”

Hermione looked at him apologetically as she said this, but Harry only rolled his eyes.

“He had that blasted snake stationed there. It was living inside Bathilda Bagshot’s body –”

“_Living insi–_ ?”

“Uh – yeah. Like living inside the body. Using it like clothes.” Harry shuddered violently as he remembered the rotten smell that had hung about the house and hastened to get through, “Anyway, we thought she might have the sword so we followed her into her house but she changed into that bloody snake and somehow called Voldemort. We escaped with a gap of like three seconds tops.”

There was a bit of stunned silence at his words until Neville leaned back, like he had just escaped Voldemort himself, with a half-disgusted half-impressed look on his face, “Damn.”

Hermione opened her mouth and from the expression on her face, Harry was sure she was about to tell everyone that she had accidentally broken his wand in the escape, but he hurriedly cut her off. How would they answer if anyone asked how they managed to repair the wand?

“A few days after that we began hearing voices and footsteps around our hiding places so we started disapparating under the cloak to throw off unwanted visitors, but turns out it was just Ron looking for us.” He said, and threw Hermione a quick warning glance in case she decided to cut him off.

“How did you know where they were?” Neville asked Ron, looking more interested to go forward with the story in case someone decided to blow up on Ron again. Ron took the bait eagerly and began his story about the Deluminator; Harry was instantly relieved that he did not need any warning glance or nudge to skip over the part about the extra wand. Ron apparently had much more experience with lying.

“Wow. That’s quite a contraption, huh?” Neville said and Ron hovered between pleased and guilty, his ears turning slightly pink again, “Yeah, I reckon Dumbledore must’ve known that I’d need it – that I’d try to run off or whatever.”

“You mean he knew that you’d want to come back to us.” Harry corrected him again, and he had a feeling that Ron would stick to his version no matter how many times Harry tried to convince him. His ears were almost red when he nodded gratefully and passed on the Deluminator to be inspected by everyone, just like they had done almost a year ago.

Once Mr. Weasley had finished examining it and passed it on, he leaned forward on the table and picked up his abandoned plate of post dinner snacks, “So how did you find them finally?”

This time it was Harry who explained all about the doe patronus and the sword and Ron pulling him out of the lake and stabbing the Hocrux. He did not dare to look at Ron as he completely skipped the bit where the part of Riddle inside the locket had fought back.

“Wow. Did you find out who sent the patronus?” Ginny said finally, wide eyed and thankfully not giving Ron any of the looks that promised life-threatening hexes or jinxes.

“It was Snape. I saw it in his memories later – I mean today in the morning before the final – yknow.”

“But Harry isn’t your patronus a stag?” Ginny asked, looking rather bemused rather than disgusted. He had not honestly given it a thought yet.

“Er – I think it might be more because he loved my Mum and her patronus was probably a doe since my Dad’s was a stag. And er – Tonks’ patronus was a wolf when she fell in love with Lupin in sixth year, so er – yeah.”

He was still not comfortable discussing Snape or his memories in proper detail and tried his best to not over think any circumstance. It would undoubtedly take him a long time to process what exactly had happened there and also how Lupin had not put two and two together if he had known about the unlikely friendship. But then, he might not have known at all.

He leaned back on his chair and pressed his palm hard into his eyes – it felt like he had run out of tears as an expression of his pain. It did not help in the slightest that he could feel Ron and Hermione’s worried eyes on him again. He almost snapped at them to mind their business and give him a single bloody moment to himself untinged by their pity, but instead he sucked in a noisy breath and mastered the impulse to shout at his best friends with enormous effort.

His eyes took a bit to adjust to the dark garden as he blinked rapidly, silently thanking his stars that it was almost over. Everyone looked apprehensively at him but he only nodded at Hermione, _Go on then_.

“Well, after that it was rather straightforward.” She began, and Harry prayed she would remember not to bring up the visit to Xeno Lovegood’s, “Ron managed to find the password to your Potterwatch program George, and we heard the one with Remus and Kingsley in it, but we were so happy to hear about other things that we got too excited and forgot about the taboo on Voldemort’s name and accidentally said it.”

Harry thanked the powers silently again while everyone at the table gave a collective groan. He also shot Hermione a meaningful look, hoping that she got the point. She gave a single curt nod before turning away, “Yes, yes and then Snatchers came along and who should we run into but Fenrir Greyback.”

The groan was even louder this time, with accompanying shouts of anger at the name of the beast, but Hermione pulled on again, “I managed to save my bag by putting it in my sock and I cast a Stinging Jinx on Harry’s face but it was no use. Dean and Griphook were caught by this group too and for a while we thought we were going to be fine but then they recognized me from the newspaper and they’d found Gryffindor’s sword too. We were badly trapped and if Greyback had the Dark Mark we probably would’ve died then and there but he didn’t so he had to take us to the Malfoys.”

“To the _Malfoys_ – ?”

“_Malfoy_ Manor – ?”

“But _why_ – ?”

“Because they thought that he was living and controlling everything from there.” Harry said, cutting off everyone’s incredulous exclamations, “We were lucky that he wasn’t there, though – I think he was abroad or something. I remember someone screaming that he’d told them not to call him for anything less than Potter.”

Of course, they did not need to know that Harry knew exactly where he was and why.

“Merlin’s pants. How the hell did you get out of that?” George said this time, looking rather faint and Harry wondered if they should’ve been involving him at all. Then Fred’s broken body came to the forefront of his mind and he tore his eyes away from the twin they had been happy they could finally distinguish. He needed to know. They all needed to know.

Bill already seemed to have figured out the answer but didn’t interrupt when Harry started explaining the circumstances of their escape.

“Well, Draco was home for the Easter Holidays but he refused to identify any of us positively and it bought us a bit of time while they were all arguing. Then Bellatrix saw the sword and she – she went _totally_ fucking – she _lost_ it and started hexing everyone. And all because she thought we'd broke into her vault at Gringotts. She sent the rest of us into the dungeon and started – started torturing Hermione for information.”

He cleared his throat and blinked rapidly as the memory of her screams bounced hollowly in his head, “She Crucioed her a couple of times and we saw Luna and Ollivander in the cellar down there. Hermione – brilliant bloody witch you are, again – managed to think up a lie that the sword was a fake and Bellatrix tortured Griphook to tell her the truth but we managed to make him agree with us and lie to her. I was sort of out of my mind when I found this broken piece of mirror I had with me as keepsake. It was the only part of a two-way mirror I had left. The other one belonged to Sirius but Dung nicked it and sold it to Aberforth. He somehow heard me and sent Dobby to help us. We got him to take Dean, Luna and Ollivander to Bill’s place and told him to come back for us.”

Bill leant back and whistled lowly without thought, looking flabbergasted. He seemed to have finally put the pieces together about everything, “And since she went crazy, you thought there was another hocrux hidden in Gringotts.”

“Well that, but also because it made sense. Riddle didn’t have any money growing up so he must have been really jealous of people who had vaults in Gringotts because it meant they truly belonged to the Wizarding World. And it’s said to be the only place safer than Hogwarts so it was a good hiding place. It made sense.”

“But what ‘appened to Dobby? Ze elf?” Fleur said, and Harry grimaced immediately, but was saved from answering by Hermione.

“Bellatrix threw a dagger at us when we were about to apparate, hoping it would hit one of us.”

Fleur bent her head and seemed to wipe a tear or two before looking up, “So did you get the ‘ocrux then? From ‘er vault in Gringotts?”

“Hold on, I still don’t get how you managed to get _Griphook_ to help you infiltrate Gringotts, of all goddamn places.”

“Oh yeah, we told him we would give him the sword in exchange.” Ron answered Bill’s question with a rather ugly look on his face, “Of course, we didn’t specify when we would give it to him but he was a bloody traitor, wasn’t he? Ran off with the sword the moment things went sideways down there –”

“Ah, knew it. I could tell from the look on his face you couldn’t trust him fully.” Bill said heavily, and Harry felt like he should’ve taken Bill’s warning more seriously. Internally vowing to listen to Bill Weasley more closely than he normally did, Harry went on with the rest, eager to finish.

“Well, you all seem to know the story of our escape but yes, we did manage to get the hocrux from her vault – it was Helga Hufflepuff’s cup, with her emblem on it and everything. When we decided to jump off the dragon’s back, Voldemort made it back to Malfoy Manor and was informed about the missing cup. And suddenly, my scar hurt and I’d never felt him that angry or scared. He was sure that nobody could’ve found the hocruxes but he was doubtful so he decided to check on all of them. And I saw in his mind that the last one was at Hogwarts. That’s why we decided to go there.”

Tense silence met his words once again, but he could feel his heart beating wildly again. The moment would soon come and he would have to face it.

“Well,” Hermione started in a wavering voice, “well, we apparated straight into Hogsmeade and met Aberforth. He tried to tell us we were stupid to keep fighting or keep up with the mission. He really didn’t like Dumbledore but he did manage to show us a way into the castle through the tunnel. Then you all know what happened. Harry thought he would go to Ravenclaw Tower to get a look at the diadem and – actually, what exactly happened there, Harry?”

“Yeah, so Luna and I went to Ravenclaw Tower to look for the diadem even though I was sure that couldn’t be the hocrux because everyone kept saying it’s been missing for centuries. But when we got there, the Carrow sister was already inside and she called Voldemort as soon as she saw me. Professor McGonagall came along with the Carrow brother and – and I stunned him because we had to get out of there –”

“Oh, Harry, you’re being modest,” Luna said in her sing-song voice and Harry wanted to groan out loud, “You Crucioed Amycus Carrow because he spit on Professor McGonagall’s face. It’s alright though, if I had anger management issues, I’d probably do the same.”

There was an uncomfortable silence in which Harry couldn’t decide if he wanted to hex Luna’s pointedly grinning face or dig himself into an early grave right in the Burrow’s back garden. And then suddenly, Ginny snorted loudly and started laughing hysterically and George had a ghost of a smile on his face before it passed entirely. Ron smirked at Harry while Fleur tried to quiet Ginny down; Harry was determinedly avoiding Bill, Neville, Hermione and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s eyes.

He also decided that it would not help to point out that it was not his first time using an Unforgivable Curse, and definitely not Crucio.

“Er, right. So then I managed to warn McGonagall that Voldemort was coming to the school and while she was gathering the teachers, we ran into Snape. They dueled for a bit and then he left and while everyone prepared the castle for siege I decided to ask the Grey Lady about the diadem – the Ravenclaw ghost. And she told me how she told Riddle and that he hid it somewhere in the school. Ron and Hermione had gone to the Chamber of Secrets to get Basilisk fangs and when I ran into them the fight had almost started. I also remembered that there was a tiara in the Room of Requirement when I used it to hide my old Potions book and that’s why we –”

“Asked me to wait outside,” Ginny said, scoffing a bit as she sat up, “Like I could.”

“It was still really dangerous –”

“_Ron_.” Hermione admonished slightly in order to put off the sibling argument, “Anyway, when the Room of Requirement changed into the Room of Hidden things, we separated to find the diadem but Malfoy and Crabbe and Goyle tried to thwart us. Crabbe set off fiendfyre but he lost control and we managed to fly out just before the fire consumed the whole room. The fire destroyed the diadem but Crabbe also died.”

There was a brief pause during which Harry tried his level best to gather some sympathetic feelings towards Crabbe but it was a failure of a mission if there ever was one. From the slightly constipated look on Ron’s face, he didn’t seem to be having any luck either. Swallowing the sudden laugh that threatened to bubble out of him, he turned to everyone else again.

“Anyway, then I got a look into Voldemort’s head again and he was at the Shrieking Shack with Snape so we went there and saw him kill Snape and then we got his memories through which Dumbledore indirectly told me that the night Voldemort killed my parents, his soul was so damaged and torn that when the curse rebounded because of my mother’s sacrifice, a piece of Voldemort’s soul tore and attached itself to the only living thing available there – that is, me. Yes, I was a hocrux.”

He gazed impatiently at the looks of absolute shock on the faces in front of him – he was numb to it now, how could they even be shocked anymore? He decided to plough on mercilessly; he was really goddamn tired and had also remembered that he was supposed be attending an inhuman number of funerals the next day.

“That’s why I had to sacrifice myself to Voldemort and he had to kill me. So I went to the forest, made sure Neville knew that he had to kill the snake and gave myself up to Voldemort. Then he killed me but because he took my blood to resseruct himself in my fourth year, it tied my actual life force to his new body and the hocrux part of me was destroyed while I was allowed to return to my body. And when Narcissa Malfoy was sent to check, she lied to Voldemort about me being alive so that she could see Draco in the castle, and I was able to come back and finish him off, like you all saw.”

The faces of the people around him were still dumbstruck and he felt a stab of irritation – perhaps, he was too used to the circumstance of his life and death. He looked at Hermione and Ron, who both looked immensely tired and slightly irritated by the lack of response too, and he made a split second decision and got up from the chair and stretched languidly, popping his joints and cracking his knuckles loudly in the silence.

“Alright. That’s it then – that’s the story. I’m done. Lovely dinner, Mrs. Weasley but I’ve really got to sleep now. It’s really late and I’m almost sleepwalking at this point. Do you all mind?”

Everyone seemed to break out of a haze with mutters and he suspected it would take a few days for everything to sink in and he didn’t honestly mind – he would just prefer that he would be allowed to sleep during the intermittent time.

With mutters of goodnight and rough hugs and slaps on the back and a kiss on both cheeks by Fleur, everyone finally made their way into the house. Ron yawned widely as he Harry and Hermione walked to the apparition point outside The Burrow’s fence. Hermione rolled her eyes at his antics, before stifling a bigger yawn herself. Harry gave them both a reproachful look as he was forced to stifle a yawn himself, blinking hard. Ron cast a fervent look at the house as they clasped hands. 

"I am in no condition to apparate but I also know Ginny’s ready to hex my balls off in my sleep. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”


	4. Grieve

** _Chapter 4_ **

_3rd May, 1998_

Minerva McGonagall walked through the dirty corridors leading to her office with a limp on every other step. She was still slightly surprised that she had survived the Battle of Hogwarts, when so many had lost their lives. She sniffed loudly, determined not to give in to the sharp bite of tears at the back of her eyes, or the shooting pains in her left leg.

Her tartan robe billowed furiously as she turned a corridor and fastened her pace in anger at all that her young pupils had had to face. Her jaw clenched tightly as Harry’s young face flashed in front of her eyes, crumpling with grief at the sight of the young Weasley twin that morning. Her brave boy had managed to stay expressionless through the whole service but once George and Ronald had broken down, he could not control the wave of grief that had stricken him.

She had happened to be standing near him and had rushed to the poor boy, the boy she had watched over for years, the boy she had stupidly let Albus manipulate…

Albus Dumbledore would need to watch for her in the afterlife. She couldn’t wait to lecture the portrait of the Headmaster in his old office, even though she knew it would not bring anything to fruition. If only to aim her anger and let it out at something, she would be paying the old man’s portrait a visit.

She walked into her old office at a rather furious pace, effectively silencing all conversation and drawing everyone’s eyes. Not bothering to wish anyone, she summoned her chair next to Kingsley’s and sat facing the crowd, carefully balancing her leg.

Besides Sinistra, Filius, Horace and Pomona, the room was filled with some old faces she had not seen for a while like Richard Bones and Esmeralda Holt. She almost shot a questioning look at Kingsley for the presence of two of her former students, one a Ravenclaw and the other a Slytherin but then realized he must have made the call as Interim Minister of Magic.

As her eyes took in the room properly, she realized another of her very early students had been called forth by Kingsley – Albert Christopher Abbott, a Hufflepuff who had joined Hogwarts in the later years of Tom Riddle’s schooling. Tobias Smith, too, was almost hiding behind the imposing figure of the man who had been nicknamed Chris for his love of his middle name. It looked like the two had been in deep conversation before she had arrived.

She cleared her throat and snapped her eyes to the Minister, ‘Madam Pomfrey’s reports have varied since yesterday morning. A total of 49 casualties of the Battle have been reported, 14 of which are either suspected or mostly sure to be Death Eaters. However, two of the bodies have still not been identified and the bodies of Bellatrix Lestrange and Fenrir Greyback are not claimed either. The Lestrange brothers have also not been found and are believed to be at large.’

Kingsley accepted the information with a gracious nod and flicked his wand at a parchment and quill that presumably began taking notes of the meeting.

‘Thank you, Minerva. I am taking note of this emergency session for future use and reference.’

He paused to look at the stately brunette dressed in sharp combat attire, ‘Esmeralda, thank you for answering my summons at such a short notice, I believe you consider yourself retired from Law Enforcement since the First War ended but we are in need of a Department Head I can trust at this time. The previous position was taken up by the Death Eater Corban Yaxley who, I believe, is now missing?’

He directed the question at the tall and graying Chris Abbott, who gave a sharp nod. While the man had put on some weight with age, his eyes still held the no nonsense determination from his youth. Combined with his choice of double breasted jacket and formal black robes, the man gave off an imposing aura.

‘Lord Abbott has debriefed me already. 14 are dead and 11 captured. Of the ones we’re holding at the Ministry, only four are of real value – Thomas Avery, Walden Macnair, Alecto Carrow and Derek Selwyn. I have all of them in solitary holding, guarded, under weakening potions and stunned every two hours. The remaining seven are weakened and being guarded by two of my best. When can we begin trials?’

Minerva sat a little straighter in her own chair at the direct approach of her former student. Esmeralda had been an intelligent but soft spoken girl at Hogwarts, half blood and sorted into Slytherin. While she had raced through Auror Training with James and Sirius because of the need of the hour, she had quickly switched careers after the First War, preferring to follow her mother into St. Mungo’s as a Healer.

Barty Crouch Sr. had been outspoken about the loss the Department had faced because of her leaving, but in her own words, the woman had seen too much loss. Minerva realized she would now get to see firsthand what had made the girl worth being praised by Bartemius.

‘I take it you’re back then?’ Kingsley smirked at his old friend, a teasing lilt to his baritone, causing slight chuckles to break out in their audience.

‘Yes.’ Esmeralda looked at Minerva briefly before rolling her eyes, unable to stop the small smile.

‘Very well. Next order of business then. I’m afraid the Wizengamot has been running with the Minister as Chief Warlock for the past two years since Dumbledore was stripped of the position. Cornelius held it and Scrimegeour didn’t bother holding a formal vote for it either.’

‘And let’s not talk about Pius or I’ll vomit in Minerva’s tin of biscuits.’ Richard Bones commented bitterly, and Minerva sniffed as a few others nodded.

‘Are you saying you want to hold a formal vote for the Chief Warlock position before beginning trials for the Death Eaters we have?’

Esmeralda cut out and there was silence again as Kingsley considered, his eyes sweeping the room to eventually land on her.

She simply raised an eyebrow.

‘I guess not. When do you think we should begin the trials?’

‘Two days after. I want to interrogate everyone thoroughly after getting the paperwork done for my official joining. I don’t want any speed bumps once I get going.’

‘Done. What of the rest? I have a list of those that are still in the wind. Shall I?’

Kingsley summoned another parchment – _when had he used her desk?_ – and started reading names off it as soon as the sharp eyed woman nodded, her gaze fixed as she probably memorized all the names being spoken.

‘Lucius Malfoy, Evan Mulciber, Rabastan Lestrange, Rodolphous Lestrange, Alastair Nott, Amycus Carrow, Gregory Goyle Sr., Vincent Crabbe Sr., Augustus Rookwood, Antonin Dolohov, Roman Travers, Corban Yaxley, Thorfinn Rowle, Jugson, Anthony Wilkes, Albert Runcorn, Dolores Umbridge.’

‘Umbridge?’

‘For crimes against muggleborns. We can’t touch anyone working under her in that Department but I’m not going to let her off easy.’

‘Very well. When can I expect the paperwork to be done?’

‘Today before 12. Percy Weasley is working on it – he will have it at your desk and then you are allowed unrestricted access to the prisoners. How many in the Auror Office do you trust explicitly?’

‘Six. The six who are guarding the prisoners right now.’

Kingsley allowed a small answering smile to the woman’s smirk at being a step ahead of him. Confident he had chosen the right woman for the job, Minerva saw his shoulders drop an inch.

‘Okay. Any information obtained as a result of any interrogations so forth will be handed out only on a need-to-know basis. I will inform Percy to add it in your contract.’

‘This is the same Percy Weasley who was in the middle of the Crouch debacle?’ Tobais Smith frowned heavily in their direction and Kingsley looked at her before answering.

‘He was but the boy has seen sense since then. He is too efficient to be ignored at a time like this, when we need all hands on deck. I asked him to remain home because of his brother…’

Minerva squeezed Kingsley’s shoulder as he swallowed painfully and blinked to dislodge any potential tears. Tobais grimaced sadly but nodded.

‘It’s better to work on fixing things than twiddling our thumbs at the losses. We need to act fast if we want to make the maximum use of this time. They’re scattered and won’t be able to move for a time until the celebrations die down. It’s too easy to get recognized or captured and they will know it. That’s why I called you Tobais. What are the potential escape routes?’

‘All official national and international channels of travel are being closely monitored. I’ve added a Dark Mark alert to all Floo and Portkey travel. Connor has handled all the backdoors we know of and Tori has alerted all International offices to keep a strict eye out so we’ll be the first to know of any movement on the Continent. We will have to keep manual check of the Apparations though, and I have my people on it. It’s most likely going to be a blink and miss thing if any of them make an appearance so I’m not taking any chances with these bastards.’

Tobais Smith spoke with the bite of a man who had been forced into doing nothing for too long, and the frown on his face remained after he had finished.

‘Richard? What are the reports from our Bulgarian and French counterparts? The Lestranges and Malfoy have multiple properties, don’t they? How does it look?’

‘Both Governments have been alerted and all properties are on lockdown and under wards. No activity so far but I’ll be sending Elizabeth to France and Campbell to Bulgaria to keep a closer eye. They might have more unregistered properties so I want people out to act at a moment’s notice.’

Minerva gave an appreciative nod toward the graying Richard Bones, knowing Susan had suffered more than a few cuts and scrapes in the Battle and was being looked after in St. Mungo’s. She would have to find time to visit the young woman once everything that required her immediate attention was dealt with.

‘I suppose I am to be your eyes and ears for the Department of Mysteries then, Shacklebolt?’ Chris Abbott chimed in politely, but his eyes gave away his seriousness again.

‘Yes, Runcorn was a Death Eater spy and I have no idea who to trust within that Department. Just like Law Enforcement, the Department is in tatters and I need a working Magical Forensics and Analysis team yesterday.’

‘I will take my time with the Unspeakables before vetting anybody. Can I get three days?’

Kingsley looked at Esmeralda for confirmation and nodded once it was clear, ‘You’ll have the official paperwork before tonight. I don’t know what I’d do without Weasley seeing to the paperwork.’

‘We need as much help we can get, Kinsgley. I wish we had been able to play a bigger role in this fight but with our jobs at the Ministry and our kids in Hogwarts, they had our hands tied.’ Richard commented tiredly, earning grunts of approval.

Smith mumbled a bitter, ‘Hear, hear.’

‘Will you be keeping Cornelius as advisor still?’ Sinistra leaned forward from her perch on the sofa to ask the question and Minerva was suddenly reminded that they had other business to attend to as well.

‘No, I’ve moved him back to his post as Head of Magical Catastrophes. I think he has handled enough of his life to run that Department gracefully now.’ Kinsgley’s voice was chiding and not undeservedly so, in her opinion. Cornelius Fudge had acted foolishly enough and was half the reason the Ministry was a catastrophe in itself.

‘The Weasley boy is your Understudy then or advisor?’ Filius asked from his half-hidden vantage point on the stool by the fireplace. Kingsley shrugged minutely in response, ‘Does it matter?’

‘Ah, I was about to suggest Arthur Weasley for the post if you’ve let Cornelius go.’

‘Oh.’ Kinsgley’s eyes went wide and unfocussed for a second before they snapped back to the Professor.

‘Thank you, Filius! You have given me a rather brilliant solution to get rid of Fudge. Arthur would be perfect for the post of the Head of Magical Catastrophes. I need someone with his sense and experience on ground zero to keep an eye out for any suspicious incidents with muggles. He is the perfect choice – I will personally tell him to monitor every report he goes through carefully. We cannot miss any small hints of disguised Death Eater activity.’

Filius squeaked with joy and Minerva found a bit of tension leaving her body. That was a rather nifty solution to save them from any potential missed leads. Arthur Weasley was one of the most hard working people in the Ministry and deserved the recognition and responsibility.

‘And what of Fudge?’

‘Oh, he can look after the Wizengamot Administration services. Deal with the press, statements, he has a knack for the whole political maneuvering thing. He will thrive there, I think.’ Kingsley rambled thoughtfully, eyes fixed on the fire behind Filius.

‘What is the next step for Harry now, Minerva?’ Horace asked with a worried but well-meaning frown and she felt Kingsley snap back into focus at the question.

‘I spoke to him last yesterday afternoon and asked him, Miss Granger and Mister Weasley to rest and lay low for a while. When the Minister feels right, we can arrange a formal press interview for them to explain their actions over the past year and with some discussion, what they plan on doing going forward.’

Kingsley hummed at her response before turning to Esmeralda, ‘Should we be worried about the Gringotts Administration pressing charges for the destruction of the bank and the thievery from the Lestrange vault?’

The rumors about the trio’s escape from Gringotts had finally made it to the Prophet that morning but thankfully, the Goblins had remained ‘unavailable for comment’. Hopefully, that would mean that they would be open to a compromise.

‘I have not received any official notification for such but I will keep an eye out. As a show of regret and in the spirit of making amends, however, I suggest we offer them a sufficient monetary sum for the loss of the dragon and lives of any goblins in the aftermath, along with personal compensation to those injured and the egos of the Administration as a whole.’

Chris huffed in amusement and Richard nodded while trying not to smile too much. Minerva knew enough wizarding history to understand that while the laws for Goblins were harsh, the beings were not exactly the most welcoming or fair towards wizards either. She made a mental note to approach the topic with the eldest Weasley before an official offer was made. Kingsley seemed to have reached the same conclusion as her.

‘I’ll talk to Bill Weasley before we make an initial offer – he has worked with Gringotts for a fair few years now and I believe his insight will be monumental in helping to deal with the aftermath of this situation.’

‘And I believe the Ministry infiltration by the trio is to be ignored?’

‘Definitely. I believe the boy has suffered a lot for the wizarding community and instead, we should talk about provisions for an award ceremony for all those who have fought in this Battle.’ Pomona inserted in her orotund tone that brokered no argument. 

Minerva cleared her throat to bring him back to the present, ‘Before any such ceremony, what of the bodies of the deceased that are not death eaters and have not been claimed? Severus Snape is among them.’

Try as she might, she could not keep the slight bitterness from her voice, reminded of the secrets of her former pupil and colleague. She understood the man’s demand of secrecy and stealth, given his role as a spy but the fact that Albus had kept such sensitive information from her would never stop needling at her. She had once suspected the boy’s affections but never questioned things once their class had cleared their fifth year.

‘First, have the School Governors officially agreed to let Hogwarts resume?’ Richard voiced the question and received a hushed but positive reply from Sinistra as Minerva looked to Kingsley for answers.

‘I think a burial in the Hogsmeade cemetery would be appropriate and a Memorial for all the lives lost. Only once the school is restored, perhaps?’

The suggestion was met with murmured agreement and nods from almost everyone and Minerva inclined her head in acceptance.

‘Any ideas for how to restore the school? Perhaps a Wizarding Construction Company could be contracted? I am afraid Hogwarts is too vast for the professors alone to clean, rebuild and protect again.’

Filius worried out loud and Minerva sighed, agreeing silently. She couldn’t see how they could manage the humongous task by themselves. Filius alone could not ward Hogwarts against attack – they needed a team of excellent Charm casters and Ward creators.

‘I could suggest a Construction Company that would help in the repair and clean up of the castle but I would suggest the protective charms for this prestigious and legendary place be cast only by the most powerful and trustworthy people. And not people we trust - people the castle would allow to protect her, Headmistress.’

Chris Abbott intoned carefully while his gaze, again, made the impact of his words heavier as he addressed her. Minerva exchanged a look with Kingsley and recognized that they were both probably thinking the same thing. It sounded like a task for a certain mischievous trio.

‘I would very much appreciate the suggestion, Lord Abbott. In the meantime, we will try to come up with a list of people who qualify for the protective spells. We should perhaps also take this opportunity to reconstruct the Hogwarts curriculum to make it more inclusive of subjects like Healing and perhaps Wizarding Laws. It has always been my personal wish to do so but Albus…’

She tried to regain control over her suddenly choked up throat and twisted her lips into a frown before the understanding looks turned into pitying.

‘Anyway, it will probably be beneficial if the students are asked to repeat the last year. With the presence of the Carrows and Severus forced to act as the Dark Lord’s deputy, the school has not fostered anything close to a learning environment and I believe the Professors will agree with me on this.’

Her four colleagues were quick to voice their agreements, Horace going so far as to express his disgrace at the heinous crimes the students had had to witness. Before they could get too sidetracked, Tobias Smith interrupted with a meaningful cough.

‘Not that I don’t enjoy cursing those infernal twins, perhaps we should discuss any other pending matters before taking our leave?’

‘There is not much left to discuss but I would like to bring a few things to notice, if I may?’ Kingsley announced and paused to let proper silence reign before continuing, ‘The first thing I would like to suggest is that we meet here weekly, in Minerva’s old office, to keep track of all important events as I believe the Ministry is not, and perhaps never will be, the safest place to regroup considering the presence of people still sympathetic to Voldemort’s cause.’

When his announcement was met with nods and agreeable silence, he resumed.

‘Next, I will be ordering the frankly insulting Magic is Might statue in the middle of the Atrium of the Ministry to be disposed off as soon as possible. Along with that, I wish to step up security for all employees and visitors to the Ministry in the form of voluntary tracking charms that will last upto one day after the wizard or witch leaves the premises. What do you think?’

‘Ingenius.’ Chris remarked with a nod as Esmeralda nodded her assent.

‘I don’t see anyone with good intentions having a problem with that knowledge provided to the Ministry in these times. Where will the record be maintained?’ Richard questioned after exchanging a pleased look with Tobias.

‘In the Department of Mysteries with Lord Abbott having sole access unless cleared by me personally.’

Chris inclined his head in gracious acceptance of his duty, ‘I would have suggested a blood identification test but this is better. Will an official notice to the public be sent out?’

‘Yes, I plan to announce it tomorrow in the form of a press release with the details of the rest of the appointments we have made or will make today. Other than that, I was planning to appoint a Committee to take care of the interpretation of the wills of the numerous deceased, preferably headed by someone knowledgeable but experienced with Dark Artifacts. Esmeralda, suggestions?’

The newly appointed Head’s hazel eyes unfocussed and she blinked for a few seconds as her lips twisted in thought.

‘Maybe Jonathan Croaker from the Department of Mysteries? I worked with him for a few months and he’s much older and experienced with these things but it will be one less Unspeakable for Lord Abbott.’

Chris scratched his chin before grimacing as all eyes turned to him, ‘I was hoping to rely on him for some level of help in dealing with the Unspeakables. How long will this last, do you think?’

‘Two months probably but not more than three? I am most worried about the dead Death Eaters and the people associated with them. There’s a good chance something dark turns up in someone’s vault so we can’t take the risk.’

‘Very well.’ Chris abdicated with a nod and shifting of his cane from one hand to the other, ‘I will keep in touch with him outside of the Ministry.’

‘You will reinstate the Fountain of Magical Brethren, Minister? Or do you plan on commissioning something entirely new for the Atrium?’ Tobias wondered aloud, folding his arms and leaning against the wall.

‘I think something new would be better but I also think it would be better to reinstate the Fountain until we find the time and funds for commissioning statues. The Anniversary of the Battle next year, perhaps.’ Kinsgsley smiled a little too painfully in Minerva’s opinion for the look to be genuine, but she personally found herself shocked again at her survival, if not pained.

Richard grunted in agreement and shifted his position behind the slight Slytherin witch, ‘Minister, what about the assignment of awards for the ceremony? Official lists with the recipients’ magical signatures will be required – who will be handling that?’

‘I will handle those personally, Richard. I have already made lists for the recipients of Orders of Merlin and Bravery Awards. Minerva and I will compare notes; I believe Neville, Ginerva and Luna deserve separate recognition for their services to the school during this difficult year, as do Lee Jordan and George Weasley for their determination with Potterwatch.’

‘That’ll be the Longbottom boy, the Weasley girl and Lovegood’s daughter?’ Chris inquired curiously, and Minerva nodded imperiously, trying to maintain her stoic façade as Neville’s bruised but defiant revolt in front of Voldemort swam in her vision.

‘Hogwarts…’

She tried to begin but pursed her lips as her voice came out horribly broken and sudden tears stung her eyes. She breathed deeply and grounded herself with Kingsley’s hand on her shoulder and his reassuring presence beside her as he shifted.

‘Hogwarts and it’s students have suffered enough. We have lost too much to celebrate and we need to grieve and rebuild before we can start afresh. I am proud that we have successfully defended the wizarding world from a monster and look forward to help you all restore some semblance of security and stability in the community.’

There was a chorus of ‘Well said!’ and ‘Cheers to that!’ and ‘Agreed!’ before Kingsley called an official end to the session with a wave of his wand.

* * *

_4th May, 1998_

Harry had woken up to the sound of Kreacher puttering about in his room and the old elf had immediately apologized and informed Harry that Hermione had woken up and decided to sort through the two rooms full of mail that had been sent over by pissed off Gringotts goblins.

He realized belatedly that it made sense that his mail was monitored by the goblins to some extent as he had never received fan mail, which was a blessing he had never really given thought to. And now that he had destroyed half of their establishment and rescued a dragon from their dungeon, they had sent over all the previous mail they had collected.

He sighed into his pillow and tried to will himself to fall back asleep, but to no use. He had finally managed two whole hours of sleep that morning but regretfully gave up his bed once Kreacher informed him tremulously that Hermione wanted to speak to him as soon as possible.

He stumbled to the adjoining bathroom and brushed his teeth, wondering how large Grimmauld Place really was. There had to be a boiler somewhere for the heated water and he inwardly vowed to ask Kreacher if there were any parts of the house that were hidden.

Once he had cleaned his teeth, he shed his clothed as his thoughts went back to the day before. He had somehow managed to get through the funerals of Fred, Remus, Tonks and Snape without having a complete breakdown. As he stepped into the shower stream, a wave of shame washed over him as the memory of being supported by Professor McGonagall flashed into his mind.

Well, a few minutes spent crying were still better than the sort of magical lashing out he had suffered when he was thirteen, magic tingling under his skin so often, ready to explode. He was sometimes afraid his magic would burst out of him like a bomb like it used to do when he was young, too angry or upset.

He tried to think of happier things, like the fact that none of the Weasleys seemed upset with him; Bill had looked like he wanted to talk at the beginning but then they had gone their separate ways. Andromeda Tonks had accepted his mute horror at the fate of her daughter and son-in-law with a gentle hand cupping his face, since he had choked up and simply shook his head to get rid of the pain in his chest and the unwelcome tears in his eyes, unable to form words.

He palmed his eyes and pressed hard as tears came forth again, strangely missing the familial warmth and feeling of support the single action by Andromeda Tonks had caused. He had had no time to wonder about his godson, Teddy Lupin.

He ached with fondness when he thought about the kid he had seen changing hair colors in a photograph handed to him by Remus that night; he had been so happy. Cheerful, laughing, alive…

It was with such distracted thoughts that Harry entered the bedroom, not noticing the long, sleek wand and old ring lying on his bedside table.

He had dressed and was trying his best to groom his hair when his eyes fell on the reflection of the items on his bedside table. He stood stock still, staring at the artifacts, not processing what he was seeing. He had replaced that wand in Dumbledore’s grave with his own hands. He looked down at his hands as he thought this, as if hoping to see some defect in them- something, to explain how it repaired itself. _Was it a joke?_

There was suddenly a deep vibrating sound in the whole house, which he realized was the doorbell, as he stared blankly at the table. It would be Luna and Mr. Lovegood as they were supposed to stay at Grimmauld Place for some time, his brain faintly supplied as the portrait of Mrs. Black started shouting at the top of her voice.

He made a decision at that moment, and picked up a sock lying on the floor. Without thinking much, he stuffed the wand and ring into it, threw it in the lowest compartment of his cupboard, and then dashed down the stairs.

With Mrs. Black still shouting obscenities in the background, he opened the door to see Luna’s brightly smiling face, followed by Mr. Lovegood, who looked rather vacant and hollow, both of them dripping wet.

He shifted aside and tried to apologize over the racket Mrs. Black was making, but found that they couldn’t hear each other at all. He led them to the kitchen, and quickly shot a stunning spell at the portrait.

When he entered back, Mr. Lovegood was looking at him strangely, as if he didn’t recognize him, and followed his movements with his deeply sunken but alert eyes, until Luna spoke.

“You look troubled Harry. Is something wrong?” She said softly, blinking up at him unnervingly.

“Uh, no. Why are you wet?” He said, almost flinching at his words, and wondering how Luna could always spot such things.

“We came back straight from Azkaban. I’ve already collected all our belongings from the wreckage of our house.” She replied serenely, removing her bag.

“Oh.” He replied, surprised, and once again unnerved at how she seemed cool with her father being at Azkaban. She simply smiled and started setting the fire.

“Right then.” Harry said again, casting a silent drying charm on the two, deciding it was best to go with things for now, “Let me put on some tea.”

He called for Kreacher to take Luna’s belongings to Regulus’ room and prepare it for use before any other chores. He spent a few minutes frying bacon and eggs while Luna helpfully boiled the kettle for tea and prepared toast.

She had cast warming charms on herself and her father, he realized, and given Xenophilius a chocolate bar to munch on while they were in the kitchen.

‘Good thinking. He’s going to suffer the aftereffects of being surrounded by dementors for a while. We can take good care of him here. I’ll talk to someone at Saint Mungo’s to send a Healer to come and have a look at him and you too. Or maybe we can just visit but we’ll have to check with McGonagall. Is that alright?’

Luna nodded and smiled at him in her usual sweet manner, following his movements until he slowly grew uncomfortable under her gaze, eventually realizing he still needed to talk to Hermione.

‘Can you handle this? I have to go and get Hermione – she wanted to talk to me before.’

‘Yes. I’ll take over.’ She said calmly and gracefully stepped into his place as he exited the kitchen. As he reached the second landing, he suddenly realized he had no idea where Hermione really was – Kreacher hadn’t really said - and called out her name once.

‘Harry? In here.’ He noticed her head popping out of a room along the corridor from his and Ron's old room, a corridor he hadn’t bothered to explore. He crossed two closed doors before reaching what looked like a long and stately meeting room, except the long table and chairs were covered almost floor to ceiling with parchment and pages and envelopes of different sizes.

His mouth hung open in shock as he saw the amount of mail present, and Hermione fumbling through a stack on the floor to the right of the room, surrounded by a slowly cascading tower of what looked like letters.

‘Bloody hell!’

Hermione cast him an annoyed look but seemed to have finally found what she had been looking for.

‘The Gringotts goblins are making sure they know they’re not happy with you. But I’ve managed to arrange it all chronologically at least and this is the latest. Well, it’s one of the latest, but I think you should read it before any other.’

She handed him a folded piece of parchment and he glanced at it anxiously. The look on her face as she passed him and left the room was pitying so he wasn’t sure if he wanted to read whatever it was.

‘Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. Come on, I’m hungry. You can read it at the table.’ She said, pausing at the landing until he looked up and nodded.

He followed her slowly as he opened the letter apprehensively, noticing the clean, elegant writing.

* * *

_Dear Harry,_

_I will not say that it was a delight to see you at Hogsmeade yesterday as the circumstances that caused our meeting were unfortunate, if not devastating. My Dora and Remus have always spoken so highly of you that I forgot how young you are. Barely an adult and yet, you have suffered pain the likes of which I would not wish on my worst enemies._

_I do not know if you have heard the news but my husband Theodore, who was muggle born, was also killed a few months ago. The incidents of the past few months have stolen so much from me in a short span of time, but balanced it with the beautiful gift that is my grandson Teddy Lupin._

_I remember that Remus and Dora had plans to appoint you as godfather, while I remain his legal guardian. I am confident in my abilities as a grandmother and even though I am aware it is too late, I still wish for my boy to grow up in a family surrounded by as much love as possible. This is where you come in._

_I am well aware that you do not know me and have no reason to trust me with your presence, given the history of my sister with you and your friends and the rest of the wizarding world at large. I also know the surname I have readopted to survive this war has a formidable reputation and that my cousin has appointed you as heir to the House of Black and hence, effectively my heir._

_It is because of these inescapable bonds, along with a strong feeling that I will call a mother’s instinct, that I contact you. It leads me to believe you will benefit from a little support and guidance at this obviously traumatic time. Consider this letter an official invitation to visit my home in Cornwall anytime you wish to, for anything you ever need._

_Be it an ear to listen to your problems or simply accompany you for a shopping trip to the Alley, Teddy and I will always be here. Since I know you too well due to how much my Dora and Remus talked about you, I know you would like to meet your godson sooner or later. I say we make it sooner and meet for lunch on the 6th of May._

_Teddy and I will wait for your reply. I have attached a photograph where Teddy is waving at you._

_I hope to you soon,_

_Andromeda Tonks Nee Black_

* * *

By the time he reached the table in the kitchen, he was successfully numb due to the overload of emotions he was feeling. His heart beat uncomfortably fast during the meal while he passively listened to Luna filling Hermione in on his plan about Saint Mungo’s for Xeno Lovegood and nodded in the right places when either of them turned to him. Before they could begin discussing Kingsley’s press release in depth, they were reminded of Xenophilius’ fragile condition by Kreacher and quickly abandoned the kitchen.

By the time he retired to his room, his head was full of odd phrases that jumped at him from the letter, but also wonderfully blank as he tried to arrive at the decision of meeting the woman. It would be too painful to see Teddy Lupin but how could he shirk his responsibilities? He owed it to Remus and to Tonks, they had both died for him.

He registered that he had stopped in his doorway and unthinkingly walked in towards the other wall. Suddenly, he was standing in front of the solution. He opened it and stared for a heart stopping minute at the scarce clothes hanging in the wardrobe, before making his decision and picking up the sock.

Upending the contents on the bed, he licked his lips suddenly. Hermione wouldn’t approve of this, he registered belatedly, remembering her terrified face from that night in the tent – the night they had visited Xenophilius and he had scared her with his talk of living with dead people. Taking two long strides, he locked the door to his bedroom, hoping she would leave him alone under the guise of processing grief on his own terms.

He certainly deserved this, didn’t he? He had a right to mourn as he wished. Nobody had a right to stop him from… from using all tools he had at his disposal to work through the horrors of his past, the reasons for his continued existence and to gain perspective from people he wanted to gain it from.

No, it wasn’t selfish, he decided, picking up the ring with the cracked stone.

He deserved to talk to them, he insisted to himself, turning it thrice in his fingers.

He was supposed to be with them, after all.

* * *


	5. Precautions

** _Chapter 5_ **

_5th May, 1998_

‘Harry.’

‘I… I didn’t mean to. I… I meant to see Sirius.’

‘But perhaps, you needed to see me.’

‘…’

‘Believe me, you’re the last person I want to see, Professor.’

‘But Harry, you must have been thinking of me if you called forth my… ah, shall we say spirit?’

‘…’

‘If you would rather not speak to me, Harry, I would like to stop existing now. I have no other purpose here, after all, my dear boy.’

‘…’

‘Did you ever stop to think –‘

‘…’

‘Did you ever care about me as anything other than a means to destroy Voldemort?’

‘You know very well that I did, Harry. It is the reason I did not tell you about the prophecy sooner, as I confessed to you on the night of Sirius’ death.’

‘…’

‘You’re a rotten old man, Dumbledore.’

* * *

Hermione self consciously pulled at the sleeves of her thin shirt as she stepped through the fireplace at The Burrow. She drank in the sight of the once lively place now looking almost comically colorless. There was a distinct feeling of carelessness about the room she stepped into - where the kitchen table and chairs were almost always squeaky clean and properly arranged, now they were haphazardly placed around a cluttered table at the edge of which a few dishes sat piled up. The sink was in a similarly ignored condition with dishes and garbage piled into a heap. As she passed the table, she noticed Mr. Weasley’s hat lying on a chair, probably forgotten in a hurry.

The clock in the kitchen pointed to ‘Time to do the washing’ but there was a lack of noise from the scullery and with a weird flip in the stomach, Hermione focused her attention on not looking at the Weasley’s grandfather clock in the living room. A part of her wanted to know if Fred's hand would have just disappeared but she knew it was too soon for her to face it. In the living room too, the mismatched furniture which was usually covered with a blanket or stray clothes or socks or some other leftover from a Weasley sibling's shenanigans, now it was shockingly bare and dull.

Instead of seeking out Ron like she had originally planned to do, Hermione gathered herself, and sticking her wand behind her ear, began cleaning. After a few minutes of scrubbing, washing and arranging, she quietly made her way to Ron’s room, feeling guiltily relieved that she had not run into Molly. That she did not have to comfort the Weasley matriarch with her empty words, that she did not have to witness a mother grieving for a child, the painful emptiness of which nothing could now replace.

Her thoughts turned to Harry as she climbed and again found herself gritting her teeth at his behavior. Really, locking one in a room was never the solution for anything and especially after all they had been through and all they had yet to face, he had chosen _this_ time to distance himself? Her irritation at her best friend peaked as she neared the topmost landing so she clenched her fists and willed herself to calm down lest she fuck up this very important conversation she was about to have with Ron.

Kissing Ron, while it had it’s positives, was not as thrilling as it had been the first time. She had spent enough time in the cozy corners of the library in her fourth year with Victor to know the basics and realize that it was not a technical problem - far from it actually - but a problem with them both. They had been kissing for almost three days now and she trusted her gut enough to admit that this, whatever it was, was not meant to be. She was also mostly certain that Ron would agree with her when she confronted him about the forced and compulsory nature of their romance.

Ron Weasley might have been her boyfriend for three days but he had been her best friend for about seven years now – she could interpret his feelings about someone from a single twitch of his eyebrow or a slight coloring of his ears.

As she entered with a plate of cut up apples, a faint nauseating smell attacked her nose. She belatedly recalled the ruse Ron had planned with Arthur and the ghoul that had lived in the room for the better part of a year. A very obvious effort had been made to cover the smell as the room smelled overly flowery, and Hermione recognized a thick rosy perfume that had once belonged to her. The combination was a rather sickly one, but she tried her best to ignore it as she drank in the sight of Ron’s mostly orange room, thanks to his love for the Chudley Canons.

Said boy greeted her with her a pleasantly surprised grin and shout of her name, before enveloping her in a bone crushing hug and parting with a short kiss.

‘What are you doing here? I thought you were meeting McGonagall today?’ He frowned confusedly, leading her to his bed covered with fresh sheets and an assortment of what looked like everything Ron owned. She got the impression that he was finally unpacking.

‘I did go to Hogwarts but I’ll tell you about it in a minute. I want to talk to you first. About… us.’

Ron sobered up rather quickly at that and despite the fact that she had a good guess about his feelings, her heart still beat a little faster at the potential of angering him and losing his friendship. She didn’t think she could bear that… not now.

She grabbed a small single-armed Krum figurine and began twisting it in her hands as they settled facing each other on the bed, Ron’s blue eyes sharp and focused on her face.

‘Well, the thing is… First, promise me that you won’t… fly into a temper or… or stop speaking to me or do something horrid. That you’ll listen to me and try to understand before making any decisions. Alright?’

‘Alright. I promise.’ He said slightly more warily, narrowing his eyes at her hands.

‘Okay. Here’s the thing – I think we should… well, that is to say, I want to clarify first that I do thoroughly enjoy kissing you. And I obviously like you a lot, you already know that…’

Ron cocked a single eyebrow and she blushed deeply as she recalled the two or three snogging sessions they’d had the time to share.

‘Right. But I just wanted to say that we should pause and reconsider because it feels like we’re just doing it for the sake of… doing it. Because it’s expected of us and because we’re supposed to.’

Ron’s expression cleared and when she didn’t see immediate anger or disappointment, she breathed and went on.

‘I know for a fact that I love you, Ron. And you know you’re one of the most important people in my life and I simply cannot risk losing you. And I’m afraid that… with the things we’ve been through, we both deserve to grieve properly and getting lost in each other or relying on this blindly isn’t going to help that. And I know for a fact that if we let it go on, we might not come out the other side of this with our friendship intact. And I can’t bear that.’

Ron grimaced and gently plucked the now headless Krum figure out of her hands, dragging them towards his own. His hands were so large and freckled against her small tanned ones. She could see the old scars from their fifth year on his forearms, pale and prominent.

‘I understand, ‘Mione. Calm down and stop fretting; I’m not going anywhere and I’m not mad or anything.’

He breathed resignedly, as if he had been expecting it, ‘I won’t lie and say that this doesn't hurt. You being so... practical about this. But I also can't lie that it was perfect or anything – I mean I could tell something was off right off the bat, but not… Not until you said it, and now I understand better, I think.’

His thumbs rubbed circles on her wrist and she felt herself relaxing a little more at his words; this was more than she had honestly expected from Ron. At the least, she had expected sharp words and stubborn reluctance to let go but then she thought of the cold and empty house downstairs and saw it reflected in his weary reasoning.

‘And you’re right. It’s going to be a while before…’ He choked on his words and tried valiantly to blink away the sudden shine in his eyes. Without thinking, Hermione closed the space them and wrapped herself around him. She rubbed his back soothingly, not letting go until he had sniffed and taken a few deep breaths and the tension leaked out of his shoulders.

‘I know it’s going to be a while. I miss everyone too.’ She mumbled softly over the lump in her throat and tried her best to keep her eyes dry. It worried her that she was getting so good at it.

She released Ron from her grip but he caught her face in her hands before she could pull away completely. He kissed her softly once on the lips, and then her forehead and she let him, feeling the gratitude he was trying to convey.

She pushed his hair back from his face – he needed a haircut and a shave soon – before grinning.

‘Look at you being all mature about this.’ She teased lightly and watched his ears grow pink as he ducked his head, uncharacteristically shy.

‘It’s because I understand… it feels too safe and familiar, doesn’t it? Like we’ll lose our edge if we relax into anything right now?’

She could hear the slight questioning edge as he softly shared his thoughts on the matter and she nodded vigorously as he went on, ‘Like we still need to be on alert. Isn’t really sinking in that it’s ended and we don’t need to be on the lookout now.’

‘And we can’t be, Ron. It’s going be a while. We’re still needed –’

And she quickly filled him in on her visit to Hogwarts, skipping the part about how the representative of Knuts & Bolte Constructions, Brooke Earling, had simpered exaggeratedly and flirted unsubtly with her after McGonagall’s introduction.

Ron was suitably satisfied with the research she was carrying out for McGonagall, looking for more protective and infrastructural defense spells in the Black Library. She was also supposed to sit in on a meeting with a Board of Governors representative with Neville regarding the Hogwarts finances, while also giving an in depth list of suggestions regarding the Hogwarts curriculum to Professor Flitwick.

‘I asked her about the remaining Death Eaters and how things were going on that front but she just said Kingsley will share with us when he’s ready. McGonagall thinks the new people Kingsley’s appointed are all good choices at this time but I’m not sure how fast they can begin the trials for the Death Eaters in custody. I hope they hurry because I feel like every moment they’re not in Azkaban, we’re risking them escaping.’

She saw Ron's face harden and he nodded firmly, ‘I’ll talk to Dad and Percy about how things are on that front but everyone is too busy to have a proper talk right now. And I don’t blame them.’

She frowned at his tone but acquiesced that everyone must have been keeping themselves busy like she had been. No one wanted to grieve when there was so much work to be done – it was a good excuse.

While Mr. Weasley’s appointment as Head of the Department of Magical Catastrophes would have had everyone in high spirits at any other time, now it was just a reminder that the number of people they could really trust was woefully small.

‘How are they? How’s George? And Ginny – has she calmed down enough to stop glaring at you whenever you’re in the room?’

Ron rolled his eyes and sat back, almost distancing himself from the conversation, ‘She’s stopped glaring at me but she still hasn’t said a word. Neither has George, but he’s like that with everyone.’

There was a prominent pause in which Ron stared at his clenched hands and Hermione tried her best to ignore the crushing feeling in her chest that seemed to weigh down on her heart, making it difficult to breathe. It would be a few years before anyone would be able to mention Fred or George without braking to gather themselves.

‘Everyone kept staring at me when I went to Hogwarts.’

Ron looked at her slightly surprised but it slowly melted into understanding.

‘Yeah, me too.’ He sighed quietly, ‘I had to go with Dad to shift his office because Kingsley wanted him to start right away and everyone at the Ministry just stopped dead every time we…’

‘And the whispers too. You’d think so many years with Harry would’ve made us immune to these things…’

‘Guess not.’ Ron huffed a tired laugh and regarded her carefully before continuing, ‘How is he?’

Hermione only had to debate for a few seconds with herself before realizing she had to tell Ron, no one else could help her with this anyway.

‘He hasn’t come out of his room since yesterday morning. Kreacher takes him food so I know he’s eating but he won’t talk to anyone or answer.’

She massaged her temples tiredly as Ron processed that, then added, ‘I want to borrow your wireless so that I can play some songs. He enjoyed that when we were in the tent. We danced once when you weren’t around. Just danced. Terribly. And we laughed for the first time in weeks that day. So I’m going to make him dance again. Is it okay if I borrow your wireless?’

She looked at him, not surprised to see the soft guilt on his face. That would take a few years to subside too. Even if they tried their best, she knew Ginny wouldn’t let him forget easily.

He nodded slightly and smiled before moving forward and pulling on a strand of her hair, ‘I thought you would say that we should give him time or something but I don’t think letting him stay with his thoughts is a good idea.’

‘Yeah, me neither.’

* * *

‘I deserve all the foul words that you describe me with, Harry. There have been many who have chosen to define me by my worst actions and there will be infinite more in the future. I do not wish for you to remember me that way, but if it brings comfort to you, then you must do as you wish.’

‘_Comfort?_ You think I’m going to be comforted by the thought that the man I admired the most – _worshiped!_ – was a lying traitor who played with children’s lives like they were nothing more than pawns in a game?!’

‘…’

‘I know you are angry with me, Harry. And your blame is well placed. I gambled and plotted, yes, I lied and manipulated but I did everything for _the greater good_. I know – I know how you must hate hearing the phrase by now but it is true and it’s value is very much understated. You know this and you understand why what I did was right so I shall not waste your time by restating the reasons. But I urge you to remember them and think of them and recount them when you feel like cursing my dead soul again.’

‘…’

‘I know that the sacrifices you have had to make have been terrible and painful and I am truly, from the bottom of my old shriveled heart, extremely sorry for all that you have had to witness. All that I made you do and suffer. I am sorry, my dear boy. Forgive your old man.’

* * *

The moment Hermione stepped back into the kitchen at Grimmauld Place, her shoulders dropped like some invisible weight had fallen off them. She collapsed into a chair with a loud thud, and groaned at stinging pain as her burnt skin rubbed against her clothes.

As she rested her head on the table, she listened intently and tried to pinpoint all the noises she could without moving. The fireplace crackled loudly and there was the usual thrum of magic in her veins as she concentrated. There was an insistent scrubbing noise coming in through the open door - most probably Kreacher cleaning the newly unlocked wine cellar in the basement, two doors to her right. The timed soft thuds coming from upstairs would be Xenophilius’ printing press, which he had apparently started back up immediately.

She sat up and idly wondered where Luna was. She needed to talk to her and Harry about the pending visit to St. Mungo’s and wondered if Xenophilius even believed in medicating through potions. She snorted at the thought and made her way towards Kreacher's scrubbing.

Pulling Ron’s old radio through the satchel at her side, she realized that she would have to select a song to play for Harry as it was highly unlikely that the same song would be playing on any channel.

‘Kreacher, where’s Luna?’

‘Mistress Lovegood works in the sun room since morning.’

Kreacher did not turn around to reply to her and his reply was delivered in the curt tone he used when she spoke to him when Harry wasn’t around. She muttered her thanks and climbed the stairs to her room. Harry had made some quick decisions and set up her things in Walburga’s old room. Since it had been used as Buckbeak’s quarters for about a year, she had been pleasantly surprised at Kreacher’s work ethic when the room had no lingering smell at all.

After changing into a less formal shirt and more worn cardigan, she made her way to the topmost landing and started fiddling with the radio, like Ron had taught her. After switching a few stations, she found a soft tune accompanied by a woman’s voice singing about a starlit summer night. She placed the radio outside the door, at some distance, so that if the door was opened, it wouldn’t get knocked over.

She stood at the door and wrung her hands as anxiety coiled in her stomach. There was no noise from inside the room as she quietly waited for a whole minute. She swallowed and and blinked furiously against the frustration and anger boiling up inside her. Why did Harry have to behave this way when she needed him the most? She closed her eyes against the rush of tears as the image of Harry’s body limp in Hagrid’s arms came to the forefront of her eyes.

The sharp grief that had ripped through her at that moment had left her shocked and numb. Her heart had stopped beating for several moments and she had forgotten how to draw breath until her vision almost blurred. If Ron hadn't held her with a bruising grip, she would have collapsed. They both would have.

In those moments, her body was wracked with pain so deep that it threatened to tear her apart at the seams. She was still not sure that she would ever fully recover from those few minutes when her existence was marked only by the mind numbing pain of losing Harry and trying to accept that he would never smile at her again.

She quickly slapped a hand to her mouth as she felt a sob building and dashed down the stairs to her room in a blur of tears.

* * *

‘I don’t know if it’s okay to sacrifice one man’s life to save the world. And by life, I mean _my whole fucking life,_ Dumbledore. The childhood I could’ve had with Sirius. Or Remus. If you were powerful enough to let him study at Hogwarts, you were powerful enough to get him custody. But you only wanted to raise me like a sheep for slaughter, with the best magical protection possible for the great savior of fucking wizarding world with no regards for his physical or mental well being!’

‘…’

‘They starved me and abused me and you let them. You knew everything that happened in that house because of Mrs. Figg and you did nothing to stop those things. You might as well have been doing it yourself.’

‘…’

‘You robbed me of a childhood. You could’ve brought me to Hogwarts and let Hagrid raise me. Even Professor McGonagall. But no, Albus Dumbledore doesn’t share his playthings. You didn’t want anyone else to have control over my life. Or my decisions. Only you, so that you could steer me however you wanted, like a fucking pawn in your game.’

‘…’

‘You fooled me my entire life. You made me think of yourself like some great savior. The greatest wizard to grace the earth. The only one Voldemort was afraid of. Someone worthy of being my mentor. And then you left me to die at the time convenient to your plans.’

‘…’

‘You’re well aware if Sirius or Remus knew about your schemes, they would’ve murdered you without thinking twice.’

‘…’

‘How many people did you let Death take so you could do things your way?’

* * *

Hermione woke up a few hours later to the sound of tapping on her windowsill. Her face was sticky with the remnants of her crying session and she grimaced as she wiped a hand over it. The pecking became more insistent and she scrambled out of bed clumsily.

Walburga’s room was adorned with lavish looking carpets and curtains in a deep blue hue with delicate silver patterns that screamed fat bags of galleons and indulgent expense. The Victorian style furniture added to her feeling of living someone else’s life. She blearily opened the window and let in the Ministry barn owl. The letter was sealed with a Ministry seal and Hermione frowned as the owl dropped it and swooshed out of the window.

Quickly washing her face, she opened the rather thick envelope and recognized Bill’s tidy handwriting in bright red ink.

_Dear Hermione,_

_I hope you are doing well and taking your potions on time and making sure that Harry takes his as well. I am at the Ministry, about to head into a meeting with the Goblins who are representing Gringotts. I’ve just finished talking to Kingsley and we have figured out a way to pay off the Goblins and convince them to continue working on good terms with the Ministry, without them feeling like they have been paid off. We could’ve used your help but we have no idea how they will react to your presence or mention._

_Anyway, the reason I’m writing to you is that I need your help in planning a visit to Saint Mungo’s hospital on the 7th. I would write to Ron but he has taken over the responsibility of running the shop and fulfilling orders. Aunt Muriel has been pestering me to take her to her monthly check up with the family Healer and wants Fleur to accompany her. If I remember it right, Ron told me that Madam Pomfrey had advised you three to get checked by a professional as well. A few minutes ago, Kingsley mentioned that the daughter of his new Head of Department of International Magical Co-Operation is a classmate of yours and is admitted in the hospital as well. He mentioned that McGonagall was going to visit the girl soon. Do you see?_

_I think it would be a good opportunity for everyone to get out, stretch their legs, meet some new people and get some long awaited medical help, within the safety of a group. Xeno was in Azkaban for a few months and Luna captive in a dungeon. They could both use a checkup as well. I haven’t talked to Mum or Dad about it but I think it would be a good idea to get George out of the house as well. He has started drinking an uncomfortable amount and doesn’t eat enough, according to Dad. I'm not sure if it will be good for Mum though._

_That said, since so many of us need to visit the same place, I was thinking we should plan this in advance and take as many precautions as possible. For one, I want you, Ron and Harry polyjuiced into common people. Second, I want to set up the time and place for who will arrive how, at what time and meet who. Last of all, I want you to come up with security passwords for you, Harry, Luna and Xeno so that whoever receives you will be able to recognize you all. I'll talk to Kingsley and Dad about arranging undercover Ministry escorts for the day. We can't be too careful._

_I also want you to talk to Luna and Xeno and confirm if they have a family Healer they would like to set an appointment with. If not, then owl me as soon as possible so that I can ask Healer Bobbin to include them in her schedule. She will most probably clear her day and set aside a private room for all of us so that we can meet her without any unwanted interruptions. Please owl McGonagall for me and confirm the date of the visit with her and owl me so that I can make these appointments accordingly._

_Don’t forget to spend some time with Richard Bones, the new Head of DIMC – he visits Mungo’s everyday and I’ll alert him to our visit as well, if it so happens. McGonagall calls you three the best sneakoscopes we have, so I want to make sure you have your ear close to the ground and are ready to whistle._

_Owl me back soon and tell Harry, Luna and Xeno I said Hi._

_Love,_

_Bill_

* * *


End file.
